The Birdie And The Rat
by Meatball
Summary: COMPLETED FIC! And THANK YOU for the terrific reviews! The war is going badly, and magical forces from around the world, including that special someone from Snape's past, join in to help the Order of the Phoenix.
1. Like A Phoenix From The Ashes

Title: The Birdie And The Rat 

Author: Meatball

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

Summary: The war is going badly, and magical forces from around the world, including a special someone from Severus Snape's past, join in to help Minister For Magic Albus Dumbledore and Commander Severus Snape in their battle against Voldemort.

Author's Note: a bit out-of-character, and a bit non-canon.

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Chapter One: Like A Phoenix From The Ashes

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In the hospital wing at Hogwart's castle, the old man paced the cold stone floor restlessly. It was dimly lit, as befitted the lateness of the hour, and most of the beds were full. The atmosphere was hushed. Poppy Pomfrey slept, exhausted, in her office, ready to be awakened at any time the old man requested it. One of her nurses made the rounds of the wing, making sure that the patients were as comfortable as could be.

Several times during the long night, the old man wandered back over to the young man's bedside. Occasionally, he would place a hand on the young man's brow, pushing back his dark hair. The old man would pause, waiting for -- what? Consciousness? A sign of life? Any sign of the prickly personality and formidable intellect that had become so dear to him?

Early in the morning, as the sun was beginning to pinken the lightly-frosted windows, he sat down, exhausted, his hand resting on the young man's shoulder.

"Severus. Come back to us. Please, Severus. Please..." Dumbledore sounded tired from his long vigil.

The door to the too-full hospital wing opened, and Remus Lupin -- his own wounds bandaged and healing -- limped inside. Albus took note of Lupin's appearance. It wasn't just his injuries that made him look so haggard -- the last few years of his role as a double-agent had aged the man. He was thinner than ever, and his shaggy long hair was a light silver colour, even though he was not yet forty. His blue eyes looked careworn and dull. Lupin took a chair next to the bed, and handed Albus a mug of steaming coffee, mixed with milk and sugar. Just the way he liked it. Albus nodded his thanks. Lupin held his own mug of coffee, black, in his two hands as though to warm them.

"How is he, Albus?"

"Alive. Thanks to you. Beyond that…" Dumbledore's voice trailed off, and he sat down heavily in the chair beside Lupin, sipping his coffee meditatively. He was deeply worried about Severus. They both knew that if Snape could not survive here, in the hospital wing at Hogwart's, then there was no hope for him. Not since Saint Mungo's had been blown to smithereens the previous week. Unless they were able to move him to hospital facilities somewhere else on the continent -- but that would be tricky. Other European nations were buckling down and tightening security -- not that it would help much, if Voldemort decided to invade them.

Healers were a precious commodity in Britain now, since most of Britain's medi-witch and medi-wizard community had been in service at the venerable old institution at the time, helping with the untold casualties resulting from the all-out attacks of Voldemort and his Death Eaters during the last few weeks. Now there were just a few left, Madame Pomfrey not the least of them.

Even more crippling was the fact that Britain's Magical School of Medicine was located in the basement at Saint Mungo's, and class had been in session at the time of the disaster. They didn't even have any half-trained medical students left alive. All over Britain, whatever healers were left were doing double- and triple-duty, while trying to train willing pairs of hands for nurse duty, or paramedic duty. Unfortunately, the healers themselves were wearing themselves out and falling ill, with no one to care for them. And in the meantime, the casualties were mounting. The situation was beyond desperate, and Albus had to do something.

They were at war, and the other side was winning.

Dumbledore -- now nominally in charge of what was left of the Ministry of Magic, since the vicious onslaught just a month ago -- had put out the call for help. The building itself had nearly been destroyed, and no one had time to spare to rebuild. It was being guarded, and was under spells to prevent Muggles from spotting it, but in the meantime, the Ministry had gathered its remaining employees, and relocated to Hogwart's castle.

The Order of the Phoenix, tattered but still flying, had thus far resisted involving other nations, but their need now was desperate. Without help, they were doomed. And once he had conquered Europe, Albus knew that Voldemort would hardly be content to rest upon his laurels. Perhaps not right away, but soon -- soon enough -- he would expand his horizons to include the rest of the planet. And if they couldn't defeat him here and now… Albus did not want to think about how strong, how powerful, Voldemort and his army would become.

They would be unstoppable.

Remus Lupin lowered himself, painfully, into a chair beside Dumbledore's. "All I did was get him out of there, Albus. He saved himself. How did he do it, though? How did he repel the Avada Kedavera curse?" The sun was fully up now, and the hospital wing was bustling to life. The early morning sunlight slanted across Lupin's face, highlighting the young man's exhausted features. Beside them, Madame Pomfrey was checking Snape's vital signs.

Dumbledore shrugged. "Severus Snape is one of the most powerful wizards in this century, Remus. He'll be the first to deny it, but…" He waved a hand towards the bed, where Pomfrey was peering into the unconscious man's eyes and making that tut-tut'ing sound that Albus had come to associate with the medical profession in general, both wizard and muggle. "He did it once before, when Harry was a baby. And now he's done it again, when it was directed towards himself. It's some kind of positive-power shield that he created. I can't do it, myself, although Severus has tried to teach me. It's some kind of extension of one's life force. The spell is easy, and it requires power, but there is something else to it that Severus has not been able to teach me, for he does not know himself how he does it. Perhaps someday, he will be able to put it into words." Their eyes were drawn to the upper part of Snape's chest, where part of an angry red scar, in a familiar lightning-bolt shape, could be seen above the bed sheet pulled over him. The scar stretched from his collarbone to his navel. It made Lupin wince, just to look at it.

Remus Lupin's eyes flicked to Dumbledore's. "He did it…for Harry? I didn't know this."

"It's not my story to tell. It's Severus's." Dumbledore sighed. "I hope he has the chance to tell you himself."

"Does Harry know?"

Stroking Snape's clammy forehead, Albus said, "He's about to. Now that Severus's cover has been blown with Voldemort -- how he kept it up so long, I am in awe -- anyway, now that Severus is no longer a double-agent, he must assume the role that I have trained him for." Albus tapped his mug with his wand, and it instantly refilled. He did the same for Lupin.

Remus looked at Albus curiously. "There have been rumours…"

"Of course there have been! This is war. When are there not rumours"  
Albus smiled grimly. "Yes. I am in charge of the entire Ministry now. I need Severus to assume command of the Order of the Phoenix. And now that your own cover has been blown, Remus, I require you to assume the role of his second-in-command." He leaned away from the bedside, as Madame Pomfrey performed a quick-bathe spell on Severus, and levitated him gently in order to perform a household spell, one which changed the bedding. When this was completed, she carefully returned Snape to his bed, squeaky-clean and covered in warm, dry sheets. Through the entire operation, Snape did not awaken.

Lupin bowed his head. "I'm honoured. I'll do my very best, Albus. Or die trying."

With a touch of his old humour, Albus said, lightly, "I know you will. Or we'll all die anyway." He shrugged gently. "Not a lot to it, is there? Live or die. Win or lose. All we can do is our very best. And I trust you to do your very best, Remus. And I trust Severus to do his very best." He paused, then added quietly, "I trust him with my life. I've done so before, and I would do it again. Without hesitation." Madame Pomfrey had moved on to another patient, so Dumbledore sat down on the edge of the bed again and squeezed Severus' hand in his.

He fell silent, and Lupin knew that Dumbledore was thinking about the time, just three years ago, when he and Snape had contrived to fake Albus's death, in order to save Snape and Draco Malfoy from an ill-chosen unbreakable vow. They'd pulled the whole thing off, and until a few weeks ago, had pulled the wool over the entire wizarding community's eyes. Lupin remembered his own shock when, while helping search the rubble of the Ministry for survivors, a short-haired and clean-shaven Albus Dumbledore had strolled onto the site and greeted them. Lupin didn't think his nerves would ever be the same again, after that.

He and Snape had began trying to worm their way out of their undercover duties shortly after that, for word had spread like wildfire. Albus Dumbledore had returned, and he was taking command. All over, there was a sense of impending doom, a sense of things coming to a head. Unfortunately, Voldemort had been a few steps ahead of them, and if not for Lupin's tough part-werewolf hide, he and Snape would have been dead. Or, more likely, wishing that they were. Lupin stretched and winced. Tough hide, yes, but he was bruised and battered in more than a dozen spots. Fortunately, his incredible speed had saved them both, and had saved him the necessity of having to kill. If there was one thing that he and Severus had in common, it was the opinion that murder was a cruel waste.

"And Harry? Do you think he will follow Snape's command?"

"Oh, yes. Yes, I do. Harry and I have had many discussions about Severus Snape, and now it is finally time for him to know the events that occurred, on the night that his parents were killed by Voldemort."

"And what of the rest of us?" Lupin stared at Albus, intently.

"Pardon?"

"Will we ever know the full truth? After all," Remus paused, a bit choked. "After all…James and Lily were two of my dearest friends. I've lost…so much. I've lost James, and Lily, and Sirius, and even Peter, for he once was a dear friend. Will I ever know the truth?" He held Dumbledore's gaze, his light blue eyes shining with unshed tears.

Dumbledore reached out and placed a fatherly hand on Lupin's shoulder. "That is not up to me, Remus. That will be up to Severus, whether or not to share the tale. But I believe he will wish to tell you. In fact, I'm certain that he will."

Unable to speak, Lupin looked away.

After a long moment, they both jumped, startled, at the sound of a weak voice. They looked at the bed, to see Severus Snape gazing dully at them from pain-glazed eyes. Dumbledore jumped up, quickly, and leaned in close.

"What was that, Severus? What is it?"

"…Potter…get Potter…"


	2. Old Regrets And New Beginnings

Chapter Two: Old Regrets And New Beginnings

It was a dark and stormy night late in September -- the kind of night that makes one grateful for the cozy comforts of an old, broken-in castle, crackling fireplaces, and snug beds piled high with soft blankets. A heavy rain pelted the thick old glass windows of the castle, rattling them in their frames. It was the sort of night that was best spent in the Great Hall, with the company of good friends and hot buttered rum or spiced wine, or even rich, dark hot chocolate. A cutthroat game of wizard's chess played by the light of thousands of flickering candles, jokes and stories and laughter -- it was these things which made a cold and wet autumn evening very bearable, indeed.

It was such a setting that Harry Potter had just departed, and he made his way around the familiar corridors of Hogwart's. He'd waved goodbye to Ron and Hermione earlier in the Great Hall, ignoring the worried looks on their faces.

"I just need to be alone for a while, that's all," he'd told them. "I just need some time to kick back and relax."

"You shouldn't wander the castle alone, Harry," Hermione had said, anxiously twisting the new gold band on her left hand. She and Ron, like many other young couples during the war, were newlyweds. Only a week before, they had exchanged their vows in the Great Hall. It had been a heart-warming ceremony. Most of the Order had turned out, and the Hall had been gaily decorated. For a few short hours, they had put the war behind them, and had ate and drank and sang and danced. Even Snape, leaning heavily on his cane, had proposed a humorously sarcastic toast from the head table. From anyone else, it would have been funny, but coming from Snape, it had been doubly so, and the Hall had rang with laughter. His shy smile -- a far cry from the bitter, twisted grimace that had used to pass for a smile -- had lit up the room, and had only faltered when a laughing Hagrid had slapped him heartily on the back, causing him to fall headlong across the table. 

Harry chuckled at the memory. Far from being angry, Snape had laughed along with the rest of the room, when Hagrid had picked him up and tried to brush him off. Fortunately Dumbledore had been close by, and was able to prevent any more damage to the recuperating former double-agent.

It was amazing, thought Harry, how much that the last few days had wrought such an incredible change in the dour former potions master. Harry supposed that he understood, though. What kind of strain must it have been, living a double life for so long? He wondered if Snape would miss living on the edge, miss the challenge and uncertainty, or if he would be able to relax now and enjoy himself more. From what Harry could see, the latter appeared to be most likely -- as much as anyone could enjoy themselves, living with the threat of Voldemort's forces day in and day out. Still, unlike many, Snape was positive and optimistic about the outcome. Harry couldn't see where he came by his optimism, though. Things were looking bad for the good guys.

After a few moments, Harry ascended the stairs to Gryffindor Tower, as he had countless times before. No matter where he'd been raised, the old dormitory was home to him as nowhere else could ever be. Nothing could soothe his inner turmoil as walking up these stairs could. Some of the happiest times of his life had been in this tower. It seemed as though if he listened hard enough, he could hear old laughter and tears, old jests and arguments, for these things had surely soaked into the ancient stone walls. Harry paused, halfway up the stairs, and leaned against the railing, a reminiscent smile on his face. How many times had he laughed himself silly at something Fred and George said or did here? How many times had he been stopped, blinking furiously, after being accosted by the Creevey brothers and their damned cameras? How many times had he slipped out of this very tower, wearing his Invisibility Cloak? And this tower was where he had first kissed Ginny… 

He knew that no matter what the future brought, wherever he ended up, that this would always be his best home. He ran lightly up the last set of steps and stopped in front of the door to the tower.

"Password, please." The Fat Lady stared down at him dispassionately.

"Whoop-dee-doo," Harry said. There was no need to have passwords anymore -- there were no more students. Hogwart's served as the headquarters of the Order, and now, the home of the Ministry. But he supposed that even the Fat Lady needed to feel useful. He understood how she felt. Boy, did he ever. Being the "Chosen One" meant being the "Sheltered One", lately.

"You'll be more involved soon enough, Harry," Dumbledore had said to him just last night. "I know it's hard to see your friends and colleagues involved in the war effort, and for you not to be with them. But Harry, you know the Prophecy. We need you, Harry. We need you alive. We need you to face Voldemort. We're just your supporting act. You're the star of the show, Harry. And we need you alive for that."

Yeah, whatever, Harry thought as the portrait swung open. He stepped through, and ran up the stairs to his old dormitory, where he still slept. It didn't make it any easier to see his loved ones risking death every day, with him cooped up here in the castle.

Sure, he helped in whatever way that he could, he thought as he sat in his favourite window seat. A chilly draft came in through the windows -- it felt refreshing. It was dark outside, and he could just make out the stars in the inky sky though the tall windows. The storm had broken, and the air was clean and crisp and alive. Down below, on the grounds, a white, ghostly shape galloped joyfully in the dark, in the safe confines of Hogwart's property -- Firenze, out for his nightly run. In the starlight, Harry could see mud and water being kicked up by Firenze's hooves. His silvery-blonde hair, grown long now, streamed in the wind behind him, and his powerful body leaned forwards, as though to gather more speed. Harry wondered if Firenze would ever be able to make it up with the other Centaurs. Then again, there weren't many of them left, were there? Thanks to Voldemort and his mates, Firenze was probably one of the last few left. Besides, Harry knew that Firenze would never be separated from Sybill Trelawney, not if he had any say in the matter.

Harry bit back a laugh, just thinking about those two. Speculation had it that they were a couple, but he didn't think so. Somehow, from Firenze's disdain for Trelawney, and her bitter resentment of his very existence (Harry smiled, remembering the time that she had referred to him as the 'usurping nag'), a slow, grudging respect for each other's abilities had come about; and then, from that common ground, a great, great friendship had grown. Maybe there was more; Harry didn't know, and he wasn't about to ask. But they were rarely apart -- even now, Harry could see Trelawney on Firenze's back, her arms wrapped around his strong waist, her frizzy hair streaming in the wind as Firenze ran, and he remembered Bane's words from many years before. "Are you a common mule?"

Common, Harry thought. Common? No. Bane really had been an idiot. There had never been anything common about the young, gentle Centaur who cared so much about others that he had given up the only home he had ever known, just to try to help. All he had ever wanted to do was help. For all his kindness, tolerance, wisdom and knowledge, Firenze had a heart the size of a mountain. Harry was proud to call him friend.

Harry saw Firenze skid to a halt, and Trelawney jump off, laughing. They stood down by the tower for a moment, gazing up at the stars. He saw Firenze point out something in the sky, and Trelawney nod. Then he saw Firenze take Trelawney by the hand, and make their way back into the castle. Harry smiled at the sight. Whether they were a couple or not, they certainly were happy with each other's company, and in these dark, uncertain times, that was all that mattered. That was all that ever mattered.

He yawned, and stretched. His time at the castle wasn't all bad -- he had his friends, and he had Ginny. Snape and Lupin -- make that Commander Snape, and Captain Lupin -- talked to him daily, including him in as much of the war effort as possible. His friendship with Lupin had only grown stronger, and with Snape -- well, it was a surprise, but now that they had made their peace, they were finding much common ground. And the man was brilliant, no doubt about it. Maybe someday they would become friends -- it was a possibility -- but for now, Snape had Harry's respect and allegiance. Harry couldn't think of anyone he'd rather have leading the Order of the Phoenix.

But that didn't make it any easier, waiting on tenterhooks with Hermione and Madame Pomfrey in the hospital wing, waiting to treat the wounded as they poured through the large, ornate old doors. Hermione hadn't planned on serving as a Medi-witch, but the shortage of trained personnel had forced her to learn new skills quickly. And Harry, with no experience or training, had quickly been forced into service as a nurse, squeezing in training whenever possible. They did all they could to help the overworked Madame Pomfrey and Minerva McGonagle, and prayed that it was enough.

Indeed, such service had been the source of the one and only major fight between him and Ginny. He'd wanted her to train as a nurse also, and she'd outright refused. Her brothers were contributing, her father was helping hold things together as much as they could at the makeshift Ministry, and no way in hell would she sit back and let them manage without her. She and Harry had argued bitterly, long into the night, but finally Harry had backed down, realizing that Ginny's spirit was much of what he loved about her and he couldn't ask her to change who and what she was, no more than she would ask him to do so of himself. Still, every time those doors to the hospital wing swung open, his guts turned to water. He wondered what he would do if she was ever one of the wounded, being brought in on a stretcher. He wondered what he would do if she was ever one the ones being brought in, not for treatment, but for burial.

He would go mad, he thought, closing his eyes. He would go mad. And heaven help anyone who stood in his way…

Harry sighed, and leaned his head back against the damp stone windowsill. Don't think about it, he commanded himself. Just don't worry about it. What will be, will be. And in the meantime, he would keep slipping the Felix Felices into her drinks prior to her going on duty. If Ginny had noticed, she had not said anything. He was sure that she knew, though, and that was one more thing that he loved about her -- that she would accept just the small bit of protection that he could offer her, and not complain about it. If he could have done more, he would have.

Just then, Hedwig slipped into the room, and gently set down beside him. Tied to her leg was an elegant roll of green parchment, edged with silver. Harry made no move to take it. He knew what it was.

Just two weeks ago, when Snape -- Commander Snape -- had been brought into the hospital wing, more dead than alive, limp in Remus Lupin's arms -- Snape had requested, as he began to recover, a private meeting with Harry. He wished to talk to Harry, he said. The time had come for Harry to know all. The truth. The reason for his scar, which so precisely matched the one on Snape's chest. It was time to know how, and why, his parents died. What happened that night. It was time for Snape to tell Harry everything. 

Harry had come to Snape's bedside at Dumbledore's request, and had sat beside the ill man for hours, while Snape babbled deliriously. He could not understand very much of his words. Harry caught passages such as "curse shield", and "Petunia and Lily", "animagus", "Pettigrew" and "Black", but very little of it made sense. After hours, when Snape had finally fallen into a deep, exhausted doze, Harry had checked his vital signs, and had changed Snape's sweat-soaked sheets, using fresh sheets from the warmer. He'd used a replenishing spell to help replace Snape's lost bodily fluids, and plumped up his pillow, to make him more comfortable. Then he'd sat there for a while longer, watching Snape -- Commander Snape -- sleep. Snape's face was peaceful, and looked years younger. Even the bitterness was beginning to fade away. Exhausted, Harry had grabbed a catnap in a spare bed beside Snape's, in case he awoke during the night and was able to converse.

Since his release from the hospital wing, Commander Snape had asked Harry several times to come to his office, so he could have a proper talk with him. He wanted to explain everything to Harry.

Harry had refused every invitation.

He didn't know why, he couldn't explain it, but he just wasn't ready to hear the truth. A line from some old Muggle movie that Dudley had enjoyed came to mind. "You want the truth? You can't handle the truth!"

That was how he felt, he thought. It was a truth that he wasn't ready to handle. He couldn't. Not yet, anyway. And what did it matter, after all? The past was the past. It was the future that mattered. It was their actions in the here and now to ensure that there even was some sort of a future that mattered. Still, he supposed he should talk to Snape himself, and explain. In all honesty, he was rather glad that Snape had been unable to talk that night -- it had given Harry time to think about things, and to decide. And his decision was that it just didn't matter anymore.

His mind wandering idly, he gently stroked Hedwig's feathers, and wondered how Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley liked their new home in the United States. They had not wanted to come to the castle for safety, so the Ministry had arranged for them to be transported to a state called Michigan. Aunt Petunia's last letter, carefully worded, had talked about the loveliness of their surroundings and how much Uncle Vernon was enjoying his new position. She, herself, was enjoying American television and the shopping. He smiled to himself. Odd how it had taken a war to bring him closer to his remaining family. Well, to Aunt Petunia, anyway. Even Uncle Vernon was kinder. And as for Dudley…well, Dudley was Dudley. Still, Harry wished them well, and had even promised to visit, if he ever could. He had been surprisingly touched to read in her letter that they had made up a bedroom for him.

A soft noise from the common room made him jump to his feet, wand out. He relaxed, though, when he heard a familiar scraping noise, and a familiar silky voice cursing. "Damned stairs, much better in the dungeons, hardly any stairs there…" Harry bit back a laugh and ran to the top of the stairs. There, two steps up, was Severus Snape, trying to inch his way up using the walls for support.

"Prof…I mean, Commander…wait."

Severus Snape looked up, his face grim and intent. "Oh, Potter. There you are." He tried to smile, but it was more a grimace of pain.

"Stay there, sir. I'll come down." Harry hopped down, two stairs at a time, pausing until Snape had cleared the way, then skidded to a landing at the floor of the common room. It was deserted, except for Hedwig, who had flown down with Harry and landed carefully on his shoulder. Snape stood there, looking at them.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"Don't call me 'sir' anymore. Call me Severus. Unless the circumstances warrant it, then you must call me Commander Snape. I'm not your potions master anymore." Snape's lean face relaxed into a small smile.

" Yes, Commander."

"Severus," Snape said firmly. 

Harry felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. There was no getting away from it this time. "Prof…er, Severus…may I speak to you about something? It's about your invitations…about the night that my parents…"

Snape sighed. "Sit down, Po…Harry. Sit down, Harry. We're long overdue for a talk, and this is the last chance for a while to do it."

"Why is that, Sir…Severus?" Harry regarded him curiously.

"Because this war is swiftly drawing to a close, and if Albus Dumbledore's mission today and tomorrow are successful, we shall be very busy in the upcoming weeks. But for now…" Snape tapped his wand against the table by the fire, and a decanter of wine, with two silver goblets, appeared there. He then tapped the cold fireplace, and a warm, crackling blaze sprang to life. "Sit. Please." With a grateful sigh, he himself sank into one of the plushy chairs. "Oh, this is much better. Very comfortable."

Harry sat. He accepted a goblet of wine from Snape, and simply watched him for a moment. He guessed that this time, he couldn't refuse -- this time, he'd have to just be patient, and listen, after all. Snape took a meditative sip, and stared into the fire, as though looking for something. After a moment, he drained his goblet in one gulp, and poured himself another, offering a refill to Harry, who held his goblet out for more. Snape poured carefully, the flames reflecting in his dark, dark eyes and glinting off the silver threads in his long hair. Then he smiled sadly. "Harry. It's time that I told you exactly what happened, twenty years ago. What happened the night that your parents died. I've been carrying these secrets around for so long, and now I must speak of them."

His voice was soft, and filled with old, careworn regret.

"It's time, Harry, that you knew the truth." 


	3. In Dreams

Chapter Three: In Dreams

Several hours had passed. There were more than a few empty bottles of wine on the battered old table in Griffyndor Tower, and the flickering firelight illuminated the tired forms of Harry Potter and Severus Snape. Hedwig sat on her perch in the corner, snowy head tucked under an equally-snowy wing.

"So that's it, then. The whole story. That's the big deal." Harry leaned his head back and rubbed his face tiredly.

Snape raised an eyebrow at Harry's tone. "That's it. Did you expect more?"

Harry didn't understand. "Well…yeah, actually. What's the big deal? Why didn't anyone tell me this when I was younger? Why all the secrets?"

"I don't know." Severus shook his head slowly, his arms folded wearily across his chest. "I honestly don't know, Harry. I believe…" He paused, staring into the fire, then said, "I think…perhaps…that Albus didn't want to burden you with all of this. Not if it wasn't necessary, anyway."

"Not necessary? Not necessary? What are you playing at?" Harry asked in disbelief. With a shrug, Snape continued. 

"What I mean is…well,I believe so. What if, perhaps, Voldemort had never regained power? What if he really was dead, and gone? Was there any point, then, with troubling you with such knowledge? I don't know. What do you think?" Snape's voice was gentle, and just a bit slurred.

Harry rubbed his eyes again, and let out a huge yawn. "I'm too tired to think right now."

Snape, groaning slightly, leaned forward and pushed himself to his feet. "I agree. I'm rather tired, myself, and I believe I will go to bed. We can talk more at a later date, if you wish. Perhaps you may wish to talk to Albus. I'm sure he has more to say than I. But he and I felt that you should know the entire story of your parents' murders. And," he added, "Now that there is no more reason for me to hide anything from Voldemort, now that I am openly exposed as a double-agent, and as a member of the Order -- well, there is no more need for secrecy, is there?" He stood tall, and stretched. "Where is Ginny tonight?"

"Working." Harry didn't say more; he didn't know any details. It was a hard thing to live with, but he was learning to handle the fear and uncertainty. For the most part, anyway. "She's not due to be relieved until tomorrow."

"May she come home safely." Snape placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, and paused briefly, giving it a small squeeze. Then he turned and slowly made his way out of the tower, still limping. The curse that had left Harry with merely a scar had left Snape with a partial, and somewhat painful, paralysis of his left leg. No one knew for sure if it would go away, although Snape said that some days were better than others, and having a bad leg definitely was better than the alternative. "And now, if you will excuse me…I have to go repeat this entire story to Remus Lupin. He also deserves to know everything that I can tell him." Snape sighed. "Goodnight, Potter," he said softly as he exited the tower.

"Goodnight, Com…er, Severus." Feeling groggy and more than a bit drunk, Harry stumbled his way up the stairs to his old dormitory, where he slept at nights. Usually Ginny was with him, when she wasn't on duty. When she was on duty, he often lay awake for hours, staring at the ceiling and counting the minutes until she returned safely. It was amazing, how long a night could be, sometimes, and how huge and empty the tower could be. The castle was still sparsely populated -- although with the Ministry workers, it was beginning to fill up a bit -- and Harry had this particular dormitory all to himself. Hermione and Ron lived in the same tower, but in the next dormitory over. Still…it was lonesome without Ginny.

Tonight, though, he had no problem falling asleep as soon as he dived under the covers. Probably the wine, he thought sleepily, as he began to drift off. He wasn't much of a drinker, usually. He had a feeling that he'd pay for this tomorrow.

Within minutes, Harry was fast asleep, but his mind was still racing. He dreamt of a Halloween night almost nineteen years ago…

…"Come, Wormtail." The high-pitched, hard voice said conversationally, as two hooded figures passed through a small, dark village. The cozy houses all had darkened windows, as it was fairly late at night. Throughout the bare trees, several owls could be seen, blinking wisely at the passers-by, and hooting occasionally. Voldemort and Wormtail rustled through the fallen leaves as they walked, for the road had not been cleared, and the air was fragrant with the late autumn smell of decaying foliage. It was a crisp, sweet smell, one that evoked a nostalgic feeling of childhood innocence in those not too old or jaded to remember such small delights.

"You have done well. If my plan comes to pass, you will be rewarded for your brave and faithful service. Lord Voldemort is pleased with you."

"Yes, my Lord," said a snivelling, cowering little man. "I am grateful, my Lord. Very grateful…"

"Be silent." Wormtail went silent, and they continued on their way through the village. From Harry's vantage point, Wormtail looked much the same as he had when he had known him, during his third year at Hogwart's. Only perhaps a bit younger. Still, this was only his imagination, he knew, for he also knew that he must be dreaming.

After what seemed to be only a moment, they approached a house at the end of one road. The roads had been deserted -- they had encountered no one. There were a few lights on in the upstairs window of the house, however, and Harry could hear a woman singing. She had a lovely, clear voice. It sounded like a lullabye. He felt a lump form in his throat. Below him, Voldemort and Wormtail paused.

"This is it, my Lord," Wormtail whispered in an excited voice.

"Excellent." Voldemort's voice sent chills down Harry's spine. "Now go knock on the door."

"Me," squeaked Wormtail. "You wish for me to…?" He trailed off, quaking.

"Of course. You are their friend, after all. And you are their trusted secret keeper. I cannot get in without your help." A soft, quiet laugh. "Let us pay a visit to your dear friends. Your best friends. I should very much like to meet your best friends, Wormtail."

Perhaps it was the light, but it looked to Harry as though Pettigrew would faint, he was so pale. After a few seconds, however, he approached the front door, and knocked smartly with the lion's head door knocker. Three times, a pause, then once more. Voldemort waited, in the shadows beside him. Harry could just make out a large spider clinging, unnoticed by anyone else, to the hem of Voldemort's robe.

Harry caught his breath. The door had opened, and his father stood there.

"Peter! Hello! What are you doing here? You aren't on duty tonight, are you? Is there a problem?" James Potter paused, a strange look on his face. His smile faded, and his eyes narrowed. "…Peter…why are you here?" Harry saw his father reach for his wand.

But not quickly enough. From beside Peter, from a figure barely visible in the dark, a green bolt of light shot straight for the open doorway -- but James was not there. His Quidditch reflexes had served him well. The door swung shut, and Harry could hear his father yelling, "Lily! It's him! Take Harry and go! I'll try to hold him off!"

Voldemort laughed, and Pettigrew blasted the door open with a wave of his wand. They stormed inside, but Harry saw Pettigrew fall to the ground, stunned. Way to go, Dad, Harry thought proudly. But only for a second…for in the next second, he heard his father scream, an inarticulate shout, from the upstairs window. A flash of green light illuminated one of the windows.

Downstairs, a younger version of Severus Snape stood there, his wand pointed at Pettigrew, and his expression fierce and determined. At the sound of the scream, however, he cursed and swung about, running up the stairs two at a time. "Potter! Lily!", Harry heard him say. Then Harry heard the high, cold voice that sent chills down his spine. The same voice that he had recalled during his third year of school, courtesy of the gruesome Dementors that had been standing guard at the school at the time.

"Stand aside, you silly girl. Stand aside."

"No!" Harry could hear his mother pleading desperately with Voldemort. The fear and desperation in her voice broke Harry's heart. "No! Not Harry! Leave us alone!"

As though he were watching some strange Muggle movie unfold, Harry saw Snape rush into the bedroom where his mother, her long red hair streaming, attempted to shield her baby son. Voldemort had his back to the door, and therefore did not see Snape. What happened next was too fast for Harry to make clear sense of.

What he saw was Severus Snape shoot some kind of a protective shield, a pale pink in colour, strengthening to purple, in front of Lily and Harry, but at the same time, Lily raised her wand and fired a blast at Voldemort, who at that precise moment fired a blast of killing green light at Lily. The shield dissipated, and Snape slumped to the floor, breathing heavily. It looked as though he would pass out. Whatever that shield was, clearly it took a lot out of the wizard creating it. Snape raised a trembling arm, his wand pointing at Voldemort's back. But he was too late.

Harry watched his mother fall. Her lifeless arms dropped baby Harry to the floor.

It appeared that, incredibly, Voldemort had still not yet become aware of Snape's presence, so caught up in his mission as he was. Cackling madly, he aimed his wand for another shot. "Farewell, little Potter. It's nothing personal, child. You just simply have to…go…" he said. There was that eerie rushing sound of accumulating power that Harry had come to associate with the Avada Kedavera curse, and dream Harry felt his muscles tense.

Severus Snape now lay on his side in the hallway, but, his expression once again fierce and intent, was just able to produce that same, weird shield again, albeit at a stronger intensity than before; it was almost a dark purple in colour this time. In his other hand, he held another wand -- Pettigrew's wand, perhaps? -- and tried to aim it at Voldemort, but he just could not manage it. He was too weakened.

What happened next was unbelievable. The Avada Kedavera curse rebounded, for some reason, disintegrating Voldemort's thin, pale body. The Dark Wizard barely had time to scream -- all Harry heard was a thin, high-pitched screech, abruptly cut off, before his empty robes simply fell to the floor, slightly smoking. Dream Harry stared -- he had never heard of the Avada Kedavera curse disintegrating a body before. Weren't bodies usually unmarked? This bizarre shield -- a Curse Shield, Snape had called it -- was his own invention, and, according to Snape, had not been fully developed at the time. Snape had been working on it for years. Even now, judging by the huge lightning bolt scar on Snape's chest, it was still not completed. Still, though, Snape and Harry had both survived, and that was something. Dream Harry turned his attention back to the terrible scene in front of him.

Baby Harry appeared to be intact, except for a few bruises, and a deep, oddly-shaped bloody gash on his forehead. He opened his mouth and let out a huge wail.

The noise seemed to rouse Snape, who was lying on his side, sweating and vomiting. He looked as though he would pass out. Through tears pouring down his face, Snape stared blearily at the crying baby, and whispered, "Potter. Oh, thank Merlin. Potter."

The house began to shake, the walls collapsing and dust and plaster falling from the ceiling. "Damn it," muttered Snape. With the last of his strength, the young man pulled himself over to the little boy and pulled his cloak over the two of them. "Protego ", he whispered, weakly swinging his wand overhead. Behind him, Pettigrew's wand and Voldemort's cloak and wand lay, unattended. Around them, the house collapsed into rubble, but the debris merely bounced off the rounded shield above them. With another muttered incantation, Snape caused them to float safely down to the ground when the floor collapsed.

They lay there, baby Harry crying, Snape shaking and coughing and gasping. As Harry watched, he saw Snape point a trembling arm and whisper, "Entrapio!" at something scurrying through the rubble. A hot swell of anger formed in Harry's stomach as he saw a squeaking rat dodge and swerve as it ran from the destroyed house. Snape had missed. Wormtail had escaped. Again. "You slimy son-of-a-bitch," Snape hissed angrily. "You can run, but you can't always hide. I'll get you sooner or later." He coughed again. "And that's a promise," he wheezed, still coughing.

A few moments passed. Baby Harry's crying gradually began to subside, and Snape seemed to regain some of his strength, although the dust from the rubble was making him choke, and his eyes water. The tears pouring down his face left dark trails in the dust coating his pale skin. "Shhhh," he whispered, holding the baby close. Snape tried to brush some of the dirt and debris off the baby, with little success. "Shhhh. It's all right. Someone will come for you. It's all right, little Potter." A few moments later -- although it seemed much quicker than that to the dreaming Harry -- there were sounds of alarm from outside. A wail and a howl, and Harry could hear a deep voice shouting.

"James! Lily! Oh God!" A sobbing, distraught Hagrid could be seen, running up the lane. Before Harry's eyes, Snape -- after taking his robe off and wrapping Harry securely in it -- seemed to shrink in upon himself, and where he had been, there was only a large, black spider, with long, thin legs, sitting on a pile of bricks and watching Harry intently. The next second, Hagrid stormed amongst the rubble, crying with relief when he found Harry swaddled in the robe.

"But Hagrid, someone's been here!" A voice from behind Hagrid. Dream Harry noticed the small, dishevelled man for the first time. Hagrid's gaze swivelled to the much-smaller man.

"What d'yeh mean, Mundungus?"

"Well, who's gone and wrapped him in that robe, then?"

"What?" Hagrid frowned, and unwrapped Harry. Mundungus Fletcher held up the long black robe.

"Whose is this, then?"

Harry watched as Hagrid snatched the robe from Fletcher, and scanned the rubble intently for a moment. Then he spotted the spider, and stared at it for a second. While Mundungus searched the rubble, Harry saw Hagrid nod solemnly at the spider, and carefully set the robe on the ground. Then he straightened and yelled, "Eh, Fletcher… let's find Lily and James, an' we'll get them outta here…hope they're alright, but I'm bettin' they'll be hurt, or…"

"I've found them, Hagrid." Fletcher's voice was low, and flat. "They're over here." Harry could hear the grief in his voice.

Harry watched as Hagrid picked his way carefully across the debris, and after a shocked gasp, Harry heard him let out a heartbreaking wail. It seemed like the wailing went on, and on…

…he sat up in his bed. There was a faint pink dawn just breaking over the mountains, and his face was wet. Hedwig sat on the side of his bed, watching him with concern. After a second, she hopped over to where he sat, and leaned against his arm.

Harry sniffled, and wiped his face dry. The words of Severus Snape came back to him, now. "Your father and I despised one another, yes, but we made a sort of peace, Harry. For your mother -- Lily Evans -- her family lived down the street from me when we were children. Lily was my dearest friend, Harry. Lily and Petunia. They were like the sisters that I never had. I mourned your father's death, but Lily's death…that gutted me. All I could do for her was to try to look out for her son. That's all I've ever tried to do. And if I've been an overly-harsh teacher? Well, Harry…you were not a very good student. It was frustrating." Snape's voice, full of old regret and sadness, reciting the horrifying events of that night, nearly nineteen years before, had been like a soothing bandage over an old wound. "I, and every other teacher here -- we've only been trying to teach you how to survive. You, and every other student who couldn't be bothered to pay attention, to learn. Poor Longbottom, I've agonised over that child. After what happened to his parents…well, it's only understandable that we would want to make him strong, to help him as much as we could…"

Harry, listening to Snape's words as an adult, rather than the student that he used to be, found that he agreed. Snape was right. He'd always been right, and Harry just hadn't been mature enough to understand that. Well, he understood now, and felt a huge rush of gratitude towards the older man, who had done his best to help Harry learn.

But just now, Harry couldn't get the memory of the dream out of his mind. All this pain, all this suffering, all these lives torn apart -- thanks to Voldemort.

If it was the last thing that Harry ever did, he would defeat Voldemort. Even if he died trying. 

He would put an end to Voldemort. 


	4. Entrez Lucie

Chapter Four: Entrez Lucie

Lieutenant Detective Lucie Degrace looked around curiously, as she Disapparated. She stumbled slightly -- Apparation always left her a bit muddled.

Rosmerta's tavern looked quite different from what she remembered during her student days. Dark and nearly empty. And so quiet! But she remembered otherwise. It seemed that if she listened hard enough, she could almost hear the echoes of clinking bottles, laughter and raised voices, even Rosmerta herself, telling someone to hold their damn horses and be patient, she was drawing their ale next. Lucie wondered where Rosmerta was -- according to Albus, no one knew. She'd just upped and went one night, and hadn't been seen since. Lucie sincerely hoped that she was all right.

She stood still for a moment, wondering what to do. She had been told that someone would meet her here, but couldn't see anyone yet. Albus had requested her presence, and considering her current circumstances, there was no reason for her to refuse. He had yet to speak to her superiors -- she knew that he was doing so within the next day or so -- but whether they granted his request or not, there was nothing stopping her from at least visiting Britain again. And it had been such a long time -- she had moved back to Canada twenty years ago, and she would have visited sooner, but her job always got in the way. 

The motto of my life, she thought grimly. The job always gets in the way. Maybe it's time to get the job the hell out of my way.

She turned slowly, trying to make out her surroundings from the moonlight shining in through the dusty windows. The place must be coated in dust -- it was killing her to try not to sneeze. The air smelled a bit moldy, too. She could just sense that someone was there -- she'd always had good sensory abilities -- but her eyes had not yet adjusted to the darkness. In her pocket, her hand clenched.

And then there was just a tiny movement, the smallest sound -- but she caught it, and she whipped her hand out of her pocket. "Freeze!", she yelled, in defensive stance, instinctively erecting a transparent, wavering shield around her. Stupid, she thought. Stupid, stupid, stupid rookie mistake -- never enter an unknown situation without your shield. If she'd been back on the force, she would have upbraided a rookie for being so careless.

"Hey now." A large -- no, make that enormous -- figure moved forward, slowly, and Lucie felt her lips relax into a smile, as she recognized the voice.

"Hagrid," she said, with a relieved chuckle. "Don't be sneaking up on people, now. That's not nice."

"Get real, lass," he said, and she could hear the laughter in his voice. "Since when d'yeh think I can sneak up on people?"

"True," she said.

Beside him, a young man of about twenty emerged from the shadows, into the moonlight. Lucie studied him curiously. There was something familiar about him. He reminded her of someone, but she couldn't place him. Still, that prematurely-lined thin face and overlong pale blonde hair niggled at her memory… the face of a former student, but not a classmate -- someone older, who'd always been gracious and kind to her, considering that she had been a Ravenclaw with a Slytherin boyfriend. What was the name again…Larry? Lukas? No…was it… "Lucius…?", she asked, incredulously. But it couldn't be. This man had to be too young to be Lucius Malfoy. A relation, perhaps?

"No." The young man's eyes were disturbing. They looked strangely flat, or dead. She recognized the look, however. She'd seen it in the mirror for years. "Draco. Lucius is my father."

"Oh! Right, then. Quite the resemblance." Lucie gave him a small smile, as though to reassure him. "I knew your father when I was at Hogwart's. I didn't know him very well, but just in passing. He was always quite nice to me. Is he in the Order, too?"

"No." 

Lucie waited, but young Draco said nothing more, and she decided that this was a tale for another time. To cover up the awkward moment, she turned her attention to Hagrid. "Mmm. All right, then. Are we going up to the castle now? My luggage should be there."

Hagrid's black eyes -- usually warm and kind -- watched her intently. " "Yeh, it is. Jes' a mo. Draco." He turned to the younger man, who pulled a small, brown bottle from his denim jacket. Lucie watched as Draco uncorked the bottle, and she sighed resignedly. 

"Oh dear. Veritaserum?"

"Cheers." Malfoy held the bottle up, waiting for her to open her mouth.

"I really hate that stuff. It always leaves me sick to my stomach afterwards, you know." She grinned at Hagrid, wrinkling her nose, and he winked at her.

"Sorry." Draco stood there, waiting patiently, the faintest expression of sympathy on his youngish-oldish face. "I don't like it either. It gives me a rash." He smirked a little. "And I won't tell you where." Beside him, Hagrid chuckled.

"Thank you for that." Lucie stifled a laugh, and opened her mouth, as young Malfoy carefully tipped the contents down her throat. He was careful not to make her choke, but she couldn't help it. "Damn," she said, gasping. Although this was an exceptionally well-made version, Veritaserum was spicy and stinging at best. Lucie always thought it tasted like a cheap, watery vodka mixed with black pepper -- not the most appealing drink. After a moment, though, she stopped coughing, and she felt that strange mellowness take over her. Her lips went tingly, as they always did from Veritaserum. A sure sign that it was working.

"Name?" Draco began to question her, as he noticed her rubbing her lips. 

"Lucie Suzanne Degrace."

Draco frowned. "I thought it was Doyle," he said, looking up at Hagrid.

"Degrace is my maiden name. I'm divorced."

Malfoy nodded. "Rank, serial number, affiliation?"

"Lieutenant, Homicide Division, Canadian Magical Law Enforcement…uh, my employee number is three-two-one-one-five."

Draco looked down at the small piece of parchment in his hand. "The reason you're here?"

"Albus Dumbledore's request. To help."

"Help who, in particular?"

"The Order Of The Phoenix."

"Any secrets or information or affiliations that you're concealing, that may be detrimental to anyone here in this organization?"

"Not that I know of."

"Your favourite music?"

"Retro Swing."

"Favourite colour?"

" Black."

Malfoy scrutinized her for a moment, and re-read the information on the parchment, his face impassive. Then he said, "Got some identification?"

She raised her arms slowly. "In my left pocket." She waited as Malfoy reached into her pocket and withdrew the small folder with her badge and identification card. He studied it, carefully, and tapped it with his wand. After a moment, he handed it over to Hagrid, who treated it to the same careful examination.

"Eh, so yer a lieutenant now?"

"Yes. For the moment. I'm not on active duty."

"Eh? Why not?"

Damn it, Lucie thought, but she was helpless to keep silent. This was something that she hadn't wanted to really talk about. "Personal reasons." She could feel her face go hot -- Hagrid noticed, and hastily looked down. Malfoy peered at her suspiciously.

"What personal reasons?"

"Draco," Hagrid began, but Lucie spoke over him.

Just couldn't let it go, could you, kid? Thanks for that, she thought, bitterly. "Substance abuse," she said, with a sigh. Her face was really flaming now. This was more awkward than she had expected -- she thought that she'd be able to get by without that becoming public knowledge. She'd hoped that it would remain between just her and Albus. She could just imagine if Severus found out…

Draco raised his eyebrows and glanced over at Hagrid, who sighed unhappily. "We'll be talkin' about that later, young lady." He scowled, and slipped the folder back into her pocket.

Oh, great, she thought. Lucie lowered her arms. "Okay?", she asked.

"One more thing." Malfoy held out his wand, and the tip illuminated. The bright light dazzled Lucie's eyes momentarily, and she squinted against the glare. 

"Oh," she said, "Warn me next time!"

Draco stared at her, a small frown on his face. "Hagrid? That her?"

Hagrid stared at her for a long moment, then smiled faintly. "Yeh, tha's her. Lucie, lass, wha's with th' hair colour?"

"What? Draco, lower your damn wand before I make you eat it! I've only got the one pair of eyes, they do need to last me, thank you --"

"Your hair, lass. S'not blue, or green, or pink…not like yeh," Hagrid interrupted, before Malfoy could fire back an angry retort. Not that he would, thought Hagrid sadly. He almost missed the spoiled brat, in comparison to the too-quiet young man beside him. Poor kid.

Lucie grinned. "I'm conservative now, Hagrid. Got a lot of responsibility now. Thought I'd go back to my natural colour. Time to grow up, and all that. Kind of bland, isn't it?"

"I see why yeh coloured it sae much. Doesn't suit ya."

"Oh, thank you, Hagrid, and right back at ya." She slanted him a wry glance. "Good to see you, too." He chuckled, and patted her on the back. It knocked her forward a good two feet.

"You're a Metamorphmagus?" Malfoy frowned, catching her before she fell flat on her face.

"Who, me? No. I'm a bottle blonde." She smiled at him, trying to make nice -- they were on the same team, after all, and he wasn't under her command -- but he merely stared at her. Lucie sighed. 

She'd met wizards like him before. So pureblood that they didn't know which end of a muggle was up. Once again, she thanked her lucky stars that her family had been a little more open and laid-back about that sort of thing. About the most wizardly thing she'd ever done was attend Hogwart's. Even CMLE -- Canadian Magical Law Enforcement -- worked openly with muggles on many crimes, particularly in her department. 

It wasn't that Canadians and Americans didn't know about witches and wizards. It's just that they didn't especially care. No one believed in magic, anyway, so for her to tell someone that she was a witch merely made for the same tired old jokes, rather than a muggle freaking out and believing her. This was the reason that every CMLE officer was fully competent in wandless magic. It was easy to perform magic in front of muggles as long as they didn't see a wand, and since they didn't believe in magic anyway, the two cultures lived side-by-side quite peacefully.

Draco stared at her a moment longer, his face puzzled, then glanced out the windows and said, "Well, we should get her up to the castle."

"Good idea," Lucie said, sarcastically. "Now that you've determined that I'm not some evil minion of Voldemort, here to murder you in your bed --"

"Aye, lad. Let's go. Lucie…here, walk between us. We're going underground." Hagrid interrupted again, loudly.

"Excuse me?"

"Tunnel."

"Ah. Lovely."

"Will you just give it a rest?" Draco swung around and snapped at her. "You complain about one more thing, and I'll hex you right back to where you came from --"

"We're with yeh, lass. Yer safe." Hagrid stepped in between the two, and spoke firmly. "An' the two of yeh, that's enough cross-talk! I'll feed yeh both to Buckbeak, yeh keep this up."

"Keep that damned chicken away from me," Draco said, his lips twitching. "He's got it in for me."

"Well, stop callin' him ugly, then. Come on, Luce. Don' worry, it's safe."

Draco Malfoy shot Hagrid a deeply-ironic glance. "Safe?" He shook his head. "I don't think I know what that word means anymore. I don't think it exists." His face grim, he led the way to a small, square trapdoor in the floor, and pulled it upwards. "I'll go first. Ms. Degrace, you follow me, and Hagrid will follow you. Keep your wand at the ready."

Lucie peered down the tunnel. "No lights?"

Draco turned back to face her, his pale face expressionless, and raised one sardonic eyebrow. "Scared?", he asked. She met his gaze, and gave him the kind of look that she used to put snotty rookies, the kind who thought that they could impress the lady cop with their masculine superiority, in their place. Draco sneered and looked away, but said nothing, before he climbed down a metal rung ladder bolted to the rough-hewn stone wall. She heard his feet hit bottom, and saw his wand tip illuminate faintly. "Come on, you're holding us up. And try not to fall."

Lucie grinned up at Hagrid, and winked. "My hero. Yeah, you'd better catch me, Malfoy, or I'll feed your guts to Hagrid's chicken!" Hagrid grinned back and swatted at her playfully, as she lightly hopped on the ladder and quickly climbed down. Four feet from the floor, the ladder ended, but Draco courteously helped her to the floor.

"Stand back." In a gentlemanly manner, he held out an arm and pushed her back slightly. "And for the record, it's not a chicken, it's a fully-grown, vicious, man-eating Hippogriff."

"Hippogriffs eat people?" Lucie said, puzzled. "Since when?"

Malfoy stared at her seriously. "You'd better believe it. This one knows the taste of human flesh. And," he leaned closer, bobbing his eyebrows for effect. "It likes it. Especially the taste of cops." He smacked his lips in mock relish. "He grinds them up with his sharp beak, and tears them with his talons "  
Grunting slightly, Hagrid lowered himself down the passage, a hand braced on either side of the floor above. "Malfoy, shut yer pie hole. Buckbeak pecked at yeh once because yeh insulted him. Yeh weren't even all that hurt."

Draco laughed, and winked at her. "Hagrid, I thought I was going to lose my whole arm! Madame Pomfrey said it was a close call --"

"Ah, shut up, you." 

Laughing, they moved along.

Once they arrived at the castle -- through a long, dark and smelly tunnel that left Lucie chilled to the bone -- Hagrid dismissed Draco, who winked at Lucie as he departed, and Hagrid escorted her to her room.

"It's in the dungeon, lass, hope yeh don' mind," he said, as she followed him through the familiar old corridors, a huge grin on her face. Just seeing the old castle filled her with delight. "Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw are all pretty much filled up -- we've got the Ministry an' the Order livin' here now. What house were you in, again?"

"Ravenclaw, but that's fine. I don't mind Slytherin." The thought brought back both pleasant and unpleasant memories. "When are they serving dinner, though? What time is it?" She'd forgotten to set her watch ahead, and couldn't remember the time difference. They passed through dimly-lit stone hallways, and Lucie tried to ignore the dampness in the air. "Same old dungeon, cold and damp," she said.

"Sure is. It's after ten, dinner's long gone, but it's no prob to raid the kitchens for yeh. Wanna go to the Hall & grab a bite?" Hagrid smiled at her, as he opened a door to an unused classroom for her. 

"I'm sleeping in here?" Lucie looked around, and shivered.

"McGonagle said she'd fix it up fer yeh, if yeh didn't wan' to do it yerself."

"Ah, no problem. Hang on." Screwing up her face, Lucie waved her hand a few times -- transfiguration had never been her strong point, but she was capable enough, and within minutes, the austere room had been transformed into a cozy flat, complete with her luggage, which she knew had been stored in the castle since that afternoon. She'd had a few last-minute things to do, so she had sent her luggage on ahead with the Can-Am Knight Bus Express. Lucie turned to see Hagrid staring at her admiringly.

"Wandless! Huh!"

"Requirement of CMLE," she said, waving her hand and causing her luggage to fly onto the large, comfortable bed. Within a few seconds, it had magically unpacked itself, and her iPod sat on a long, low table at the end of the bed, next to her laptop computer and digital camera.

"You muggle," Hagrid said, chuckling. He went over to peek at the electronics, sitting on the large chair that she conjured up for him. "You can't use this stuff here, lass."

"Oh, sure, I've got it all bewitched. It'll all work here, don't worry. Hey, Hagrid, where I come from, 'muggle' doesn't mean 'stupid'. Hang on, though. Odd how everything turned out silver and green."

"Well, you're in the Slytherin area, yeh know." He peered through her digital camera, no clue how to work it. "By the way, th' Prefects bathroom is the big green door right across the hall. Password is 'dunderhead'."

Lucie giggled. "Nice. One second." She waved her hands again, and the décor changed from Slytherin colours to black velour and fuzzy leopard print, which caused Hagrid to howl with laughter. "There, that's better," she said, satisfied. "Now give me a second so I can change. Turn around." She grabbed some clothes from the closet, and Hagrid dutifully turned away.

"If yeh want," he called out, "We can just eat here. I don't care, meself -- it's whatever you're most comfortable with." He abandoned the camera to examine the laptop.

"Yeah, that's good by me," Lucie said, sitting on the leopard print sofa across from him. She had changed into a baggy black sweatsuit covered with embroidered red flames, which caused Hagrid to snort with laughter again.

"Nice outfit, lass," he said, grinning. "It suits yeh, though. Yeh never change, do yeh?"

With her dark blonde curls flopping over her collar, and her leopard print horn-rimmed glasses, Hagrid thought that she looked rather strange, but also years younger. Lucie waved at the table, and some plates of food appeared. She waved a careless hand at the iPod, and within seconds, rambunctious big band music poured forth.

Sighing contentedly, they dug into plates of fried chicken and mashed potatoes, sautéed mushrooms and onions, and a large basket of warm rolls with soft butter on the side. Lucie took a long drink of her orange juice, and smiled at her old friend.

"So. You're looking good. Did you lose some weight?"

"Yeh, a few pounds. You're looking good too, lass. Look at yeh! All grown up."

"Hah. Physically, not mentally." Hagrid chuckled. "Albus tells me that you've got a lady friend." She grinned and winked. "Guess I'm out of the running, then."

"Ah, yeh were married. Couldn't wait any longer." Hagrid smiled and chugged half his wine. Lucie waved a hand, and both their glasses refilled. "Special lady, Olympe is." He got a lovesick expression on his face. "She's something else."

"Ah, the French, eh?"

"Yeh, you French ladies are something else, yeh are."

"Mais oui, ma chere Hagrid." Lucie clinked her glass with his, and tore into a chicken leg. "So how's Severus? Is he recovering?" She waved a hand, and the music volume lowered a bit; it made a nice background to their meal.

"Yeh, he's doin' good, he is. Well, mostly." Hagrid spit out a chicken bone, and Lucie tapped his plate to refill it. "His injury pains him some, but it don't slow him down. Yeh remember what he's like. A bit hardheaded sometimes." Lucie snorted into her glass of juice at that. Hagrid looked aside at her. "Lookin' forward to seein' him again?"

She shrugged as she buttered a roll. "Well, yeah. Who forgets their first love?" She blushed, and grinned at him. "But you need to remember that I just got divorced, Hagrid Fourteen years down the tube. I'm not looking to get involved with anyone. Hell, I'm not even sure I've got a job anymore, now is no time for a relationship." She shook her head, and sighed. "Who knows? Time will tell."

Hagrid finished his meal, burped, and tapped his goblet for more wine. "So what's this divorce crap? I thought yeh liked yer hubby. And substance abuse? What, drugs? Booze?" He glared at her. "Never saw that comin', not from you!"

Lucie leaned back, tucking her feet -- which were clad in fuzzy leopard print socks, which caused Hagrid to snort again -- under her, and sipped her juice. "Oh, Hagrid. It's nothing, and I'm clean. It was just…I was having a real hard time getting some time off, and things just kept building, and building." She rubbed her hand across her face, and pushed her hair back. "Just…a bad spell on the job. Homicide…it's not…well, sometimes it gets to you, you know? And, I mean, Gordie and I just weren't talking anymore, and I was hanging out with someone with his own problems. I was working with him, actually, and…well…things just got a little out of control." She closed her eyes. "I'm not proud of it, you know. But whatever. Deal with it, move along, that sort of thing. The only way to get a break from the job was to burn out, you know?" 

Hagrid was silent for a moment, and Lucie studied the flicker of candlelight on the grey and black of his long hair and beard. To this day he was still the kindest person she had ever met. She knew that he could not understand the life she lived, the job that tore so much out of her soul on a daily basis. She knew that he wouldn't understand it, but she also knew that he cared about her, and cared that she'd been so unhappy. God, she'd missed that…just knowing that somewhere, someone cared. A sudden stinging in her eyes made her look down.

Merlin, she couldn't imagine going back. The things that she saw, the pitiful, pathetic, horrible things… Violent crime hurt her heart, made her want to cry…but it also made her angry, and she was especially skilled at solving those crimes and ensuring that those who committed them were punished. When it came to that, she was one of the best. It was her passion.

Things had just gotten so weird, though. Lucie had begun to feel isolated, separate from non-cops. She remembered the day in the hardware store, when her muggle husband had asked her to hand him a roll of duct tape. She couldn't even look at it, let alone pick it up off the shelf -- what seemed harmless to him, was in fact a weapon, in her point of view. The number of times that she had seen victims bound with simple duct tape, which had cut into the skin of their wrists as they had struggled…

The thing that had finally broken her -- the thing that had made the pressures of the job, the drinking, her best friend and co-worker's escalating drug problem, the divorce from Gordie -- the thing that had brought it all to a head had been the day after they'd arrested a muggle serial killer that preyed on children. He liked to perform experiments on them.

Months and months on the case, and the bastard had walked free. Well-placed connections. Free as a bird. When Lucie had heard, she went berserk, and nearly destroyed her office and everything in it. The scary thing was, she couldn't even remember doing so. 

When she'd gotten control of herself, she'd stormed out of the building and went back to the hotel room that she'd been living in since her split from her husband, and had drank herself into a stupor for nearly a week. The CMLE had finally suspended her with pay, indefinitely, and tried to put her in rehab. She refused the rehab, but suspending her was the best thing that they could have done.

She'd finally gotten tired of passing out in her own puke, so she sobered up, cleaned up, checked out of that crappy hotel, and hopped a plane from Toronto to the east coast, where she'd lived as a child. Three weeks of living alone in a cabin, hiking along the Cape Breton coastline and watching the leaves slowly turn colour, had soothed her soul. She had just about been ready to quit her job and become a private investigator, when Albus had called.

And so here she was. In the last place that she had expected to be -- back at Hogwart's, ready to help fight a losing battle. Oh, but was she ever ready. And they weren't going to lose this battle. Not if she had any say in it. The music stopped, at the end of the play list, rousing Lucie from her ruminations.

"Don't worry, Hagrid," Lucie said, taking another sip of her orange juice. "I'm fine. And things are going to work out, don't you worry. It's all going to be fine. Don't you worry."

"Everything's going to be fine." 


	5. Simon Says

Chapter Five: Simon Says

"Sir…Special Agent Simon Nigel-Nickerson is here to see you."

Kojo Bungawunga leaned back in his plush leather chair and looked up at his secretary, his lined face tense. "Thank you. Send him in." Bungawunga swivelled to face the others sitting at the large round conference table in his spacious office. The mid-morning sunshine gave the room a warm, summery feel, even though it was late September. "Nigel-Nickerson is one of our top Special Agents, gentlemen, ladies, and I feel that he may well be the choice to head up this task force."

"For the United States, yes," replied McKenna, the Canadian Director of Magical Peoples. 

"For North America, Fred," Bungawunga said. "Degrace is an excellent officer, yes, but the fact remains that she is a Homicide Detective. Lieutenant. Not even a captain. And we've discussed the personal issues -- I mean, she's suspended from duty, for Merlin's sake! And Nigel-Nickerson…"

"…has worked with Ms. Degrace on several occasions, and has absolutely no objection to sharing command with her. She is more than capable. And besides, I happen to have personal issues of my own. Got a problem with that?" A clipped, nasal voice rolled out. Every head in the room swung around to take in the tall, thin man who had walked in.

He looked and dressed like a homeless person, his chin-length blonde hair and thick sideburns unkempt and streaked with grey, even though he could not be more than forty-five. His angular face was all cheekbone and chin, and his dark blue eyes were piercing, very intent. There was no trace of humour about his grim mouth, yet there was a palpable sense of great power and intellect. Albus Dumbledore, studying him, thought that Nigel-Nickerson looked to be capable of working up a sneer to rival Severus Snape. And as far as Dumbledore was concerned, that was saying something.

"Simon. Please, sit down." Despite Nigel-Nickerson's abruptness towards him, Bungawunga gave him a warm smile. Clearly, he didn't take the special agent's attitude personally.

"Thank you, sir. I'll stand, for the moment." Nigel-Nickerson nodded, and moved his lean frame over by the open window. He then lit up a cigarette, taking care to direct the smoke out towards the open air. While he took a long drag off his smoke, his hawk-like eyes swept the room, lighting on each person in turn and subjecting them to an intense scrutiny.

"Suit yourself, Simon. I'll make introductions." Bungawunga went round the table, indicating each with a casual wave. " You already know Fred McKenna, from Canada. Carmelina Fury, European Union. Davidos Raimana, South American Alliance. Albus Dumbledore, Britain. Lila Hamuakealakani, Pacific-Asian Conglomerate, and Nikoscha Kaswandali, African Empire. Ladies and gentlemen, Special Agent Simon Nigel-Nickerson, of the American Magical Bureau of Investigation."

Murmured greetings and nods followed the introductions. After a moment, Bungawunga continued. "Simon. You've been following the British situation, with the terrorist Voldemort, I understand."

Nigel-Nickerson exhaled a stream of smoke through his nose. "Quite closely. They've got a hell of a situation on their hands."

"Correct. We have voted to assemble a task force to deal with this threat. I recommend you to head up the force, with Ms. Degrace reporting to you."

Nigel-Nickerson stared at them for a long moment. In the harsh morning light, several scars could be seen on the side of his neck, as fine as spider webs. There was a deep crease between his eyebrows, and deep lines on either side of his mouth. The angle of the sunlight turned his blue gaze even more intense, as though one was peering deep into the ocean. There was silence, and he inhaled another long drag off his cigarette. Smoke curled delicately upwards, and towards the open breeze.

"Who else is on the force?"

"Every government is contributing troops. Mostly Magical Law Enforcement, but there are plenty of willing volunteers who will be trained in combat by the Law Troops."

"What kind of numbers are we looking at?"

Fred McKenna spoke up. "Over ten thousand from Canada."

"Britain and European Union combined, almost ten thousand." Carmelina Fury, her beautiful dark eyes flashing with pride, spoke the words proudly. Beside her, Albus Dumbledore nodded his agreement.

"Another twenty thousand minimum from the rest of the world," Bungawunga said, then added, "And so far…over eighty-thousand troops have volunteered, from the United States." 

Nigel-Nickerson straightened. "Well over one hundred thousand troops, to take down Voldemort?"

"No." Dumbledore spoke. Nigel-Nickerson studied the legendary wizard with keen curiosity. "It is the job of those troops to clear the path for one wizard to take down Voldemort."

"Harry Potter," said Nigel-Nickerson, softly. "The Chosen One."

"Indeed," said Dumbledore. 

"All right," said the Special Agent, stubbing out his cigarette. He strode over to the table, and swung into a seat beside Bungawunga. "Sounds like fun. I'll play that game." His lean face broke into a smile. "And you want me to command…"

"Along with Lucie Degrace. She deserves more than to be your subordinate." said McKenna, with a defiant glance.

"Agreed," said Nigel-Nickerson. "She's a tactical genius. People follow her lead, too. She commands trust. Best head I know. Best damn cop, active or inactive." He threw a piercing glance at McKenna, who nodded in agreement. 

Dumbledore smiled. "She takes after her great-great-great-grand-uncle."

Nigel-Nickerson looked at him.

"Myself," added Dumbledore. 

"I knew that." Nigel-Nickerson grinned. "But you're wrong, old man. Lucie's been getting her head clear and back on her feet. When she gets back into the swing of things, you won't see her for dust. You'll wish you took after her, instead. Trust me, she'll leave us all behind. When she's on her game, I couldn't keep up with her to save my life." The grin transformed his severe face, giving him a touch of warmth and humour. "God knows, she's saved my life more than a few times. So it's just the two of us?"

"And Commander Severus Snape. Of the European Union/British Alliance." Dumbledore's voice was firm.

The room went silent.

"Snape," said Nigel-Nickerson, almost reverently. His eyes gleamed. "The great spy. Brilliant." He shook his head. "The man is a legend. A real hero." He leaned forward, as though eager to be off. "It'll be an honour to serve in this capacity. What a team we're going to make! Thank you." He stood, and looked at Bungawunga. "As co-commander of this operation, sir, I'd recommend that we deploy American and Canadian troops to the rest of our alliances immediately, so that we may begin training."

"Certainly, Simon. Plans have already been drawn up."

"Excellent."

"And now," said Dumbledore, rising. "May I suggest that we re-locate to our British Headquarters? Ms. Degrace arrived last night, on my request. We have much to talk about."

"Indeed." Nigel-Nickerson bowed to the assembled Directors. "Your servant. Mr. Dumbledore, shall we?" He snapped to attention.

Dumbledore smiled at him, and withdrew a small, battered silver object from the pocket of his smartly-cut Muggle suit of purple silk, pinstriped. He held it out to Nigel-Nickerson. "We shall. Goodday, ladies and gentleman. I shall speak with you all on the morrow."

With a smile and a nod, Dumbledore moved into position. Nigel-Nickerson reached out a thin, rough-looking hand and touched the Portkey. Instantly, they felt the irresistible pull, and were carried away through a rushing wind of space and time. 


	6. Around The Table, And Old Friends

Chapter Six: Around The Table, And Old Friends

Severus Snape felt like hell.

He limped down the long hallway, past the gargoyles ("sugar quills"), and leaned gratefully against the railing of the moving staircase, as it transported him up to the Command Hub, formerly known as the Headmaster's Office. Actually, only Dumbledore called it the Command Hub -- everyone else still called it the Headmaster's Office. When Dumbledore had called the meeting, it had taken his sleep-deprived brain a few moments to figure out what the heck Albus was talking about.

Severus was nursing more than a touch of a hangover from his late night drinking/talking session with Harry. He supposed that he was getting too old for such late nights, and the thought was a bit depressing. The lack of sleep made his already-battered body even more sore, and he'd awakened too late this morning to throw together a helpful potion. A quick cleaning spell for himself and for his clothes (which he had slept in), a hasty retrieval of his notes, and he'd lurched out the door, looking more or less like something the hippogriff dragged in. All he could hope for was that there was plenty of hot, strong coffee at the meeting, and maybe a bit of toast.

Snape was actually looking forward to this meeting. Albus had just returned from his dealings overseas, which he had undertaken in order to canvass some help from other nations. Their own forces were hopelessly outnumbered, and losing ground fast. If they could get a couple of thousand troops from other nations, that just might make enough difference to push them towards victory rather than a crushing, inevitable defeat. Albus had hinted that he was bringing in someone whom he could trust to help lead and inspire. Snape had no idea who, but at this point, he didn't much care. Their forces were so decimated that anyone would be welcome. Without any help, he doubted that they could hang on for more than a couple of weeks. The thought was horrifying, actually.

He wished Albus would take command from him. While he appreciated the honour, Merlin knew he was exhausted, exhausted from the last three years, and was not in any shape to command an army. Not alone. And Lupin, bless him for trying, simply wasn't the kind of help that he needed. Still, Severus valued Lupin's point-of-view and his clear common sense. Severus could become too emotional at times, not to mention just too damned tired, to have a clear head, and he was fully aware of it. No, he and Lupin made a great team -- although if someone had told him that twenty years ago, he would have laughed in their face -- but numbers were numbers, and that was the entire point. They were devastatingly outnumbered.

After a moment, the staircase disgorged him; and, looking around, he saw two heavily-armed aurors guarding the door to the Hub. Lupin stood there conversing with the shorter one.

"Good morning, Remus. Nymphadora." Snape said to them, and nodded hello to the larger auror. "Hello, Dunn. Has everyone arrived?"

"Yes, Professor." Snape hid his amusement. He'd taught so many people, it was amazing how many of them forgot the title "Commander" and called him "Professor" instead. He didn't mind. Personally, he'd rather just be called Severus, or even Snape. "Commander" had an uncomfortable feel to it. It just served to remind him how young some of the people under his command were. The thought was one of many that made him lose sleep at night.

Snape held his arms out at his sides, to allow the aurors to perform the security scan on him. In his retirement, Mad Eye Moody, working with Fred and George Weasley, had taken to inventing a variety of brilliant defence products. The DarkScan Wand was amongst the best (and best-selling) of them. He hid a smile. Those damned twins had made his life hell at school, but once free of the educational system, had quickly proven that they weren't all mischief and foolishness. He had to admit that he was quite proud of their accomplishments, and sincerely hoped that they would re-open their joke shop someday. He hoped that it would be possible.

A moment later, Tonks-Lupin pronounced Commander Snape to be clear, and allowed him and Remus -- whom Snape assumed had already been scanned -- to enter the Command Hub.

Inside, the large, ornate rectangular table was surrounded with seated people, who were making considerable inroads on the trays of pastries and pots of coffee. Severus limped to the table and chose a seat nearest to a full pot, which he pulled towards him with a silent prayer of thanks to muggles for this most wonderful potion. His seat was also close to a tray of pastry, so he appropriated a few treats, making sure to share with Fawkes, who was perched on the back of his chair. Hopefully Albus wouldn't notice. Blissfully inhaling the steam coming off his mug, he took a cautious sip of the fragrant black brew (mentally offering thanks to the muggles again), and scanned the table to see who was there. He was acquainted with most of them, but one face left him jolted.

His mouth fell open in shock.

Lucie.

"Good morning, Severus, Remus." Albus smiled at them as they seated themselves. "Be sure to help yourself to the libations, and thank you for arriving so promptly. Now that we are all here, I shall effect introductions. Please rise when you are introduced." Albus gestured with one hand.

"To my right: Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Grounds and Keys, and also in charge of my "Get Things Done" team, as I choose to call them." Hagrid rose, and waved, then quickly sat back down. "Poppy Pomfrey, our head Medi-Witch," Pomfrey rose slightly and nodded. "Minerva McGonagle, who is in charge of the castle overall, and Filius Flitwick, who provides administrative support to Minerva." Both Minerva and Filius stood, the former tall and regal, the latter a good three feet shorter and smiling kindly.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt, who is in charge of Auror Operations." The handsome black man rose and nodded politely. "Arthur Weasley, who is serving as the Deputy Minister For Magic." Weasley stood but did not smile or nod; the events of the past three years had engraved deep lines on his face, and his once-trademark red hair had thinned and greyed considerably. "Harry Potter."

Potter rose and nodded, making eye contact with Snape. He gave Snape a small, wan smile. His young face bore signs of a sleepless night as well, and Snape noted that he had a full cup of coffee in front of him.

"And joining us from North America…Special Agent Simon Nigel-Nickerson, of the American Magical Bureau of Investigation." The tall, severe-looking man rose, looking out of place with his mussed-up hair and decrepit muggle clothing. He gave a quick nod, and smiled at Dumbledore before sitting down again. Albus smiled back, then turned to the woman beside him and gave her a warm smile.

"And most of you may recall my great-great-great-grand niece from her days as a student here at Hogwart's, Lieutenant Detective Lucie Degrace, representing the Canadian Magical Law Enforcement Association." Lucie rose and nodded, her eyes lingering a bit longer on Snape than on the others. After she sat back down, Albus continued. "And I am Albus Dumbledore," he rose and bowed courteously. "Acting Minister for Magic."

"I have recently returned," he continued, "from a meeting of Magical World Leaders in North America, to discuss what they refer to as the "Voldemort Terrorist Situation." He smiled. "They have all pledged support, and Simon and Lucie will be co-commanding the effort, along with Commander Snape, as requested by Commander Snape himself."

All heads turned curiously towards Snape, as he leaned back in his chair and breathed out in relief. "Thank you, Albus," he said.

"Well, Severus, as you yourself said, we cannot do this alone. If we fail in our bid to put a stop to Voldemort, the rest of the world will be at risk from his terrorism. The time has come to put a stop to this. I'm sure we can all agree upon that."

Murmurs of agreement came from the entire gathering. Albus continued. "Rubeus, will you please lead off this meeting?"

"Aye, sir." Hagrid stood, and walked over to the end of the table, where there was a small podium. "The grounds are bein' fully DarkScanned twice a day, every day, by myself' an' my team. All perimeter guards have the DarkScan Wands, and there haven't been any breaches. No probs. We had two missions this week. One, to get Mr. Nigel-Nickerson settled in to th' castle, and two, to escort Lucie to th' castle and get her all settled in. Both went off withou' a hitch." He smiled down at Lucie, then continued. "Fred an' George are continuing work with Mad Eye on their Dark Defence stuff, an' young Draco's become me most trusted team member. He's doin' better now, too. He's getting over what happened to his parents, poor kid. 'Twill take time, tho'. No kid should ever have to see something like that."

Hagrid sighed sadly. Most everyone in the room knew that Draco had watched Voldemort personally torture his parents nearly to death. Draco himself would have been next, but for Lupin and Snape, who had arrived on the scene, and had been forced to blow their cover in order to save the young man. It had merely been a matter of time before they ceased operating as double agents anyway. They were unable to prevent what had happened to Lucius and Narcissa, but somehow, Draco and Lupin had managed to get them to Hogwart's, as well as the badly-injured Severus Snape. Snape was recovering, but no one knew for sure if Lucius and Narcissa would ever regain consciousness.

It was a hard thing for Draco to bear, and he spent much of his off-duty time at his parents' bedsides, sometimes accompanied by either Hagrid or Snape, or both.

"Thank you, Hagrid. Poppy?" Albus said, leaning back in his chair.

Madame Pomfrey stood and made her way to the podium. "We're managing well in the hospital wing. We're seeing more patients now that Saint Mungo's has been destroyed, but we're coping. Miss Granger -- sorry, Mrs. Weasley -- has proven to be an exceptionally quick learner. If she ever chose to become a Medi-Witch, she would have no problem doing so. However, if there is any kind of increase in the number of casualties, we will be overwhelmed. There will need to be more hospital facilities and trained personnel to operate them." She returned to her seat, passing by Minerva McGonagle with a friendly nod as she made her way to the podium.

McGonagle stood and surveyed the room unsmilingly. "Poppy is correct. While we are managing well, the situation could quickly become critical. All it's going to take is one battle, and we'll have people dying just because there is no room and no personnel to take care of them. Otherwise, things in the castle are running smoothly. I would like to add that Filius is providing invaluable help, and that it is greatly appreciated."

She returned to her seat and Flitwick took her place, standing on a nearby stool in order to see over the podium. "Yes, um, thank you, Minerva. Just so everyone knows, resources and finances are all well. No issues." He smiled and hopped off the stool, then returned to his seat.

Kingsley Shacklebolt took his turn at the podium. "Our team is down to ninety-seven Aurors, now, and we're all serving here at the castle. We still have not discovered where Dawlish and Ferguson have disappeared to. If they did not disappear of their own volition, then I pray for their sakes that they are dead. They're good men. I hate…to think of…what they may be going through..." His face twisted with grief for a moment; too many Aurors had been lost over the years. He said nothing more, and sat down with his head bowed. Beside him, McGonagle placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

After a brief silence, Arthur Weasley stood. "The remaining Ministry has finished relocating to Hogwart's, and there is a large, armed force standing guard around what's left of the Department of Mysteries. Kingsley…I know…I hope…" He stopped, and composed himself. They all knew that he was thinking of Percy, and of Molly, both missing for several weeks now. "That's all I have." He sat down, a look of deep distress still on his face.

The room was silent. Albus looked at Harry, who sat next to Arthur, his hand on his shoulder. Harry stood and walked to the podium.

"Er…I realize that we're going to have a lot on our plates during the next few weeks. But you have to remember that our friends and family are in Azkaban." He was referring to the wizarding prison, that was no longer under Ministry control, but was being used by Voldemort and his minions as a prison for his enemies. Rumours and stories that had reached their ears, about the suffering of the prisoners, were rife, and were horrible. "We're going to have to either break people out of there, or destroy the entire thing. We can't leave our loved ones to suffer, can we?" He glared at the room in general, then sat back down. Beside him, Arthur Weasley buried his face in shaking hands, and Harry put a comforting arm around the older man's shoulders.

Albus nodded at Snape, who slowly limped up to the podium. Remus Lupin stood, and placed himself behind Snape's right shoulder. Snape was touched by the gesture, and nodded gratefully to the man he was beginning to call friend. He would never forget that Remus endangered his own life to save Snape's.

"Yes. First, I would like to say thank you to everyone for coming here today." He looked at everyone directly, and longest at Lucie. She wasn't avoiding his eye, exactly, but her face showed little or no recognition. He continued.

"I must say that Remus and I have been working closely with Ronald Weasley, who is a brilliant tactician. Of course, we all knew that, after he soundly defeated Minerva's chess challenge at the tender age of eleven. To this date, I do not know of anyone else who has defeated Minerva at a game of chess." A few reminiscent smiles could be seen around the table. Even Arthur brightened a little, and Snape gave him a small smile before continuing.

. "To summarise the situation as Remus, Ron and I see it…we're in bad shape. We've been taking a hell of a beating.. Voldemort's supporters are numerous. He's in control of an army of Inferi -- they number in the thousands. He's gathered several hundred witch and wizard supporters, both Death Eaters and others. Impossible to guess how many are under the Imperius Curse. I believe it's best to assume that none of them are, and to assume that they are all our enemies, though that is a bitter pill to swallow. Giants, Goblins, Werewolves, Dementors. The Vampires are staying neutral, but they are paying the price. Voldemort's people are slaughtering them for sport. The Centaurs are nearly gone."

Snape sighed, and bowed his head. "He's got perhaps as many as ten thousand supporters, and we're down to under five thousand. The numbers are against us." Snape looked at Nigel-Nickerson and Lucie. "Our need is great. If you've got a few bodies to lend us, now is the time. Absolutely now." He paused, then said, "Thank you." Snape looked at Lupin, who had nothing to add, and they sat down.

His face grave, Simon Nigel-Nickerson stood. He paused, on the way up to the podium, and placed a hand on Snape's shoulder. He said nothing, but the look they exchanged spoke of the brotherhood of warriors, and Snape sat up a little straighter, as though feeling stronger. When Nigel-Nickerson took to the podium, he looked over at Lucie, and said, "Lucie. Would you join me, please?"

"Of course, Simon," she nodded. "Severus?"

After a moment, he stood, and side by side, the three of them stood up at the podium. At Snape's nod, Lupin joined them. There was something about them -- something powerful about the way that they stood, together, so strong and united, that for the first time in weeks, the others assembled at the table felt a flicker of hope. It showed in the way that Arthur Weasley raised his chin and set his mouth. The despair that had been so strong just moments earlier seemed to evaporate, and in its place, there seemed to be a strong sense of purpose. Watching them, Dumbledore wore a small, proud smile, and his eyes gleamed with triumph.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Simon said, in his curt, nasally voice. His hands rested in his pockets, and he rocked back on his heels. Despite his decrepit appearance, he definitely seemed a force to be reckoned with. Beside him, Lucie stood at relaxed attention, and gave off an air of command in her muggle-style suit and her sharp, alert expression. Although they could not have appeared more unalike, they also complemented each other, and seemed completely at ease with one another. "It's an honour to be here, to be a part of this gathering of some of the most famous wizards in recent history. Your accomplishments are legend, even as far away as the United States and Canada."

"I am Special Agent Simon Nigel-Nickerson, but please call me Simon. I'm based out of the Magical Bureau of Investigation, which is located in Salem, Massachusetts. It's a pleasure to be working with the legendary Commander Snape," he paused, and Snape flushed red at the compliment, "and the equally legendary Lucie Degrace, who is one of the top homicide investigators in Canadian Magical Law Enforcement. She and I have worked together on several cross-border cases, and I can honestly say that there are no two other people whom I would wish to have on my side, than Severus Snape and Lucie Degrace. And Captain Lupin, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I've heard good things about you, and I'm pleased to have you on our side, sir." Nigel-Nickerson nodded respectfully to Lupin, who smiled and nodded back. "And now, Lucie, if you would continue?"

Snape glanced over at her, his curious gaze cataloguing the changes of almost twenty years. She was still short, still solid and stocky, with her light brown hair -- was that a touch of grey at the temples? -- pulled into an efficient up-do. Her piercing amber eyes were fringed with long, dark lashes, and he noted the laugh lines around her mouth and at the corner of her eyes. She'd never been a great beauty, not really, but her intelligent, understanding personality and sunny smile had smitten more swains at Hogwart's than the most beautiful of girls. Snape approved of what he saw now. The years had been kind to her. She'd be what, thirty-nine now? Forty?

Forty, he decided, for she was a few months older than he was, and he would turn forty in January. She'd aged nicely, he thought. Maturity suited her, and made her even more appealing. He wondered what she saw when she looked at him.

His mouth quirked in a small, wry smile. Probably some burnt-out, overgrown, skinny bat. Just as he saw every time he looked in a mirror. He wished he'd gotten up a bit earlier this morning, and had taken a bit more care with his appearance. Perhaps he would have worn his green-and-silver house robes over his black coat and trousers, rather than his everyday black robes. He'd been told that the green brought out the colour of his eyes, and the silver would highlight the silver streaks in his hair, which he personally thought made him look more distinguished…

"Good morning, everyone," Lucie said, in that direct, low voice that Snape had always loved. "I'm glad to be back here, to see you all, but let's save the chit-chat for later, and cut to the chase. As Commander Snape said, the British forces are hurting in a big way. Let's see what we can do to help you out a bit."

She looked down at a small notebook that she extracted from the pocket of her rather businesslike suit. "All right then. The International Magical Alliance had a meeting, as you know, just this past week. All members have pledged support, with trained personnel, and volunteers, who are being trained by the Magical Law Enforcement societies worldwide, as we speak."

Lucie looked up for a moment, those golden eyes scanning the room quickly, and then she continued, in her crisp, no-nonsense way. "Latest numbers: African Empire, over twenty five thousand troops and volunteers. Pacific-Asian Conglomerate, fifteen thousand and change. South American Alliance, also fifteen thousand. European Union, including Britain, nearly ten thousand. Canada, nearly twenty thousand, and the United States of America, nearly eighty thousand. From other nations whom I have not yet mentioned, another ten thousand plus." She broke off and looked up from her notes, her large eyes locking on to Snape's. He felt a tingle in his stomach that had everything to do with her remarkable presence, and nothing to do with those incredible numbers.

"You've asked for help. We've got it. Approximately one hundred and seventy-five thousand trained and soon-to-be-trained personnel." She smiled slightly, and said, "So how do you like them apples?"

The room echoed with a stunned silence.

Harry was the first to speak. "Er…I'd say I like them apples just fine…"

The spell was broken, and they all burst out laughing. Lucie smiled again, and said, "All right, then. What say we get down to work?"

There were nods of agreement all round, so they resumed their seats, and called for more coffee and pastries. "Simon," said Dumbledore, "I'd appreciate it if you would outline the tactical plans that you and Lucie have come up with. We can all get to work on those."

"Certainly, Albus," said Nigel-Nickerson, sipping from a steaming mug of coffee. "First on the agenda is the medical situation."

"So far, you've got it under control, but I agree with Madame Pomfrey. You're going to need more than one ward. We can provide several hundred Apparating Paramedics, who can serve here at Hogwart's. When casualties are brought in, the A.P.'s can provide first aid, stabilize the patient for Apparation, then perform the Apparation to one of many wizarding medical institutions worldwide. Poppy can provide first diagnosis, and administration of this ward as a distribution service. How do you feel about that?"

"Excellent idea," said McGonagle, nodding her approval. Pomfrey smiled in relief, and agreed.

"Excellent. Next, I propose that Lucie, aided by this Ronald Weasley, head up the tactical division here at Hogwart's. We'll be bringing in more people and equipment. Integrate Ministry operations, intelligence, and tactical. Lucie is more than capable of this, and with Ronald's assistance…Lucie?"

"Minerva and/or Filius should be brought in on this," she said, wiping a spot of coffee off her chin.

"I volunteer," said Flitwick. "Minerva, if you can supervise the rest of the show, I can assist with the Operations Centre."

"Yes, Filius. That will be fine."

"Fine by me, Professor," Lucie added.

"Next. Specialty teams and Information. Commander Snape, I believe that's your forte?" Simon quirked an eyebrow at the former potions master, and peered at him through a curtain of messy blonde hair.

Snape smiled humourlessly. "It is, Simon. I'll require Hagrid's help with this."

"No prob." Hagrid waved a large hand.

"Problem solved, then. Lucie will head up tactical ops, Severus, Remus and Hagrid's team will head up specialty information ops -- both teams will be working closely together, of course. And Minerva, we'll bring the Aurors in on this, to work under the command of Kingsley and yourself. Flitwick will provide assistance to tactical, and you and Kingsley will manage the castle itself. That sound good?" Simon gave Minerva a penetrating glance.

"Most satisfactory," said McGonagle, crisply. Shacklebolt nodded approval.

"I'll serve in a co-ordinational capacity, then. Albus, Arthur…does this plan meet with your approval?"

"Very much so," said Albus. Beside him, Weasley nodded. Harry spoke up.

"What about me?"

Simon smiled at the young man. "You know your role, Harry. You're the star of the show, and you have your own path to walk down. It's everyone else's job," he waved a hand to indicate the others, "to sweep that path clean for you. And we'll back you up with everything we've got, son. You're not going in there alone. We're all together in this."

Harry stared at him for a long moment, then nodded.

"So what is the status of the operation at the present moment?", Dumbledore asked.

"Lucie." Simon nodded at her. Folding her hands and focusing her intense stare on her uncle, Lucie leaned forward, one hand stroking Fawkes as he moved from Snape's side to Lucie's.

"Hello, Fawkes, old buddy," she murmured, stroking his plumage. She then spoke up. "We've currently got the aforementioned troops stationed worldwide, awaiting their summons via SkinPhones, another Weasley/Moody invention."

Lucie smiled admiringly, and held up a strong arm, pointing at the fleshy part of her palm. A faint bluish mark could be seen there. "They function much as the famed Dark Mark does, although they can be used to send verbal messages as well. They are tiny magical communicators embedded within the skin. You can touch them, and either speak or think of the person to whom you wish to speak. This person's SkinPhone will be activated, and they will feel a small vibration. They will then either hear your voice, or, if they've got the SkinPhone set on non-verbal, then they will see a written message appear on the skin of the hand, which can be erased with a non-verbal spell." To demonstrate, she touched her phone and said into her palm, "Simon Nigel-Nickerson."

Nigel-Nickerson held up his hand, to show the skin vibrating slightly. He grinned and touched his palm, and immediately blue writing showed up on his skin. …hi from Lucie…

"Most impressive." Dumbledore said. Beside him, Arthur grinned, half-proudly, half amazed.

"The SkinPhones of the troops will also have an All Call feature. I can touch the phone, and say or think, "All Call". This will send a message to everyone on our wavelength. We'll have individual squadrons programmed as well, so that I can send an instant message to an entire squadron."

"Brilliant," breathed Flitwick. "Those twins were always two of my favourite students, you know." The others laughed.

"I'll bet," said Lucie, smiling. "Mr. Weasley, you must be very proud of them. They're brilliant, and their inventions have already saved a lot of lives. I feel certain that they will save many more. I've been working with them, and Mad-Eye, a bit on the tacticals of mass production and mass distribution of the DarkScan Wands and SkinPhones. We'll have all troops, including everyone in Britain, outfitted within two days…or I'll know the reason why not." She raised an eyebrow, and her facial expression left no one in doubt that she would indeed have her plans accomplished within the set time frame.  
"And what about a plan, though? How are we going to take on Voldemort?" Lupin said, eyeing Lucie curiously. "It's not going to be easy, you know."

"Oh, I'm well aware of that, Remus," said Lucie. "With every squadron fully outfitted and trained as best as we can, we propose to deploy the troops along the perimeter of Britian, and close in, using a pincer-like pattern. And we won't forget about Azkaban, Harry. After Voldemort has been located, then Harry, along with a hand-picked team, will move in. Have you any idea where Voldemort's base of operations is?" She glanced briefly at Severus.

"The last we knew," said Snape, "was about a hundred miles north of this location. In the old Riddle mansion, where his muggle father lived. But our information is somewhat out-of-date. In fact, he's almost certainly moved by now."

"No matter. We'll find him, and we'll handle him. Now. Any questions, anyone? Feedback? Opinions?"

There was none. After a moment, Simon said, "Since we're not fully ready to go, I suggest we sleep on this, do what we can do today, and meet again tomorrow morning to finish up. Everyone should bring some questions, observations, suggestions, and points of view to the table. Does that meet with everyone's approval?"

There were nods of assent. "Well, then," said Simon, "How about we break for lunch?"

"Agreed." Dumbledore stood, and said, "We'll meet here at eight a.m. tomorrow morning. And now, let's get to work. Preliminaries, for the rest of the day, barring unforeseen circumstances. Simon, a word please."

"Of course, Minister." Simon rose, and with a nod at Severus and Lucie, followed Dumbledore to the suite of rooms branching away from the office. The others moved towards the revolving stairway.

The room slowly cleared. Snape waited for Lucie, who was organizing her pile of notes. At last, she stood, a pile of papers in her arms, and locked eyes with Severus. Once again, the impact of that amber stare hit him in the gut. It was as though the last twenty years melted away in an instant, and he felt like the tall, stringy teenager that he used to be, once again in awe of his tough, funny, competent, sometimes embarrassingly-blunt girlfriend. He'd always wondered what a go-getter like her had seen in him.

"Long time no see, Lucie."

"Yeah, you too." She was guarded, unsmiling.

"How have you been?"

"Fine."

Snape continued. "I don't see a wedding ring on your finger"  
She frowned. "That's not really any of you business, but I took it off after my divorce, for obvious reasons. Why? What's it to you?"

"Just wondering. Albus told me you had married, a few years ago."

"So?" Her arms tightened around the stack of papers.

He sighed. "Lucie, why the attitude? It's been a long time."

"Because I'm not interested. I dumped you when you became a Death Eater, and I moved back to Canada and worked there in Magical Law Enforcement. I wasn't going to take the chance that we'd meet up on the job, you know…you a Death Eater and me an Auror. No damn way. I'm sure Albus explained that to you, though. But that was twenty years ago. There's no point in rehashing that now."

"Yes, yes, Albus did explain it to me. And I do understand why you were upset -- things could have been awkward…"

"Awkward?" Lucie stared at him, incredulously. Then she seemed to regain her train of thought. "But that's not the point! Again, it was almost twenty years ago. I wrote to you when you came to Hogwart's to teach, and you never wrote back. I tried, you know. I tried to give things another shot, and I never heard back from you, so I never wrote again. What more is there to say? If you'd wanted to try to patch things up, that was the time. You snooze, you lose." She simply stood there and glared at him, her brows knitted. He could see that she was getting angry.

Snape was stunned by her characteristic bluntness, and found himself at a loss, even though he should have known better. Lucie was never one to beat around the bush. "Lucie…I tried to write back. I did. But you don't understand…"

"No, I don't. I never did. Even when Uncle Albus explained that you became a Death Eater on his orders. Why couldn't you have told me that? What was the big secret?"

"That was also on Albus's orders. No one was to know that I was a double agent. Why can't you understand that?"

"Why couldn't you tell me?" Her eyes sparked furiously, and he realized that she'd been waiting a long time to pose this very question. "We'd been together for almost four years by that point! You were the one talking about getting married --couldn't you trust me?"

"Of course I trusted you! Don't you be an idiot about this, woman! But I was under orders! Surely you, Lieutenant, can understand that!" His own temper began to fray.

"So why didn't you write back to me? And don't you dare call me Lieutenant or woman, you damn well know my name." Angrily, she slammed her pile of papers down on the table and swung back to face him. Lucie looked down, and seemed to realize that she was losing her temper. She took a few deep, calming breaths, and then looked at Severus steadily. He remembered that she'd always had extraordinary control over her emotions, and apparently still did. Being much more emotional and hot-headed himself, he'd always found her self-control to be a bit strange.

The late morning sunlight streamed between them from the tall windows, and dust motes floated lazily for a long time before Snape whispered, "…I couldn't…I'm sorry. I just couldn't."

"Why not?" Just as softly. After a moment, Lucie averted her gaze again, hurt. She shook her head regretfully. "It would have made all the difference. If you'd confided in me…"

"Why did you get divorced?"

"What?" Astonished, she gaped at him, then said curtly, "None of your damn business. Things just…jeez. I'm a cop. That's…a hard life, for a spouse. And…there were other issues." She looked away.

Snape studied her for a moment, then said gently, "We're a breed apart, Lucie. You and I. Like two ancient warriors in a modern world." He moved closer, and brought a hand up to cup her soft cheek. "I've never stopped loving you…but I didn't know whether or not you could still love me. The things I've had to do…been witness to…" He sighed. "You deserved better."

She nodded, her expression stony. She didn't pull away from his touch, but neither did she encourage it. "And so did Gordie. My ex-husband," she added, by way of explanation. "He could never understand what I …did every day. And I didn't want to burden him with it. He's a sweet soul. It would hurt him, knowing just…well, just how cruel people can be to one another sometimes." She looked down at her feet again, her face troubled, and sad.

"Just as I couldn't bear to burden you with my issues, and my past." Snape gently turned her back to face him, and she looked up at him, her golden eyes luminous, and slightly moist. "But now I'm beginning to wonder…maybe I was wrong," he said, softly.

"You damn well were wrong."

Despite himself, Severus laughed, and hugged her close, praying that she wouldn't pull away. After an anxious moment for him, Lucie hugged him back, although he could sense her reserve. They broke off the embrace, and she leaned back to smile up at him.

"Severus? Not right now. The time's not right. But maybe later…"

Smiling, he sighed and held out his arm. She did not take it, and he gestured towards the doorway, instead. "Maybe later. You're right. But for now, let's go eat. I'm starved."

"Sounds good." She stopped and gestured for him to go ahead of her.

"Now, Luce," he said, as they spiralled down the moving stairway, "Why don't you fill me in on what you've been doing the last twenty years?"

She laughed delightedly. "My pleasure…Sev."


	7. Code Blue, Copy: And So It Begins

Chapter Seven: Code Blue, Copy (And So It Begins)

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"Thirty-two, check. Check in, thirty-two."

"Check, Lucie, copy."

"Status and location, thirty-two." In the former potions classroom in Hogwart's chilly old dungeon, Lucie slumped at her command console, fatigue in every line of her body. Even her voice sounded tired. Severus watched her with concern. She'd been going nearly twenty hours straight with very few breaks.

"Copy. Nearly red, Zone Eighteen -- Indonesia, copy."

"Copy that. How long 'till blue?"

A pause. "Two, maybe three days. Copy."

Lucie slumped a little more, her head resting on one hand, while she spoke into the SkinPhone embedded in her other hand. God, but she was tired. "Copy that, thirty-two. Have them ready to move by zero-eight-hundred."

A silence. "Uh…not sure we can manage that, Lucie…"

"Those who aren't ready, leave behind."

Another silence. Then thirty-two's voice crackled with a new energy. "Copy that, Lucie. We'll ALL be blue by zero-seven-hundred."

Lucie smiled tiredly. "Copy that, thirty-two. I need your word on that." She lowered her voice. "I am counting on you having your squadron blue by zero-eight-hundred."

"We'll be all-go."

Lucie paused, then said, very deliberately, "Thank you, thirty-two. Thank you."

"Copy, ma'am. Thirty-two out."

"Lucie out."

Groaning a little, Lucie stretched back in her chair and tapped a large map on the wall with the tip of her finger. Immediately, a small, glowing red number "32" appeared on the map in the small patch indicating Indonesia.

"How many squadrons are there?", Severus asked.

"Seven hundred, each comprised of two hundred and fifty troops." She smiled slightly at his wide-eyed expression, and indicated the map with her wand. "Of them, nearly six hundred are at Code Blue. The rest -- about one hundred and twenty -- are hovering between Code Yellow and Code Red. God, I could use a good stiff drink right about now." Severus looked at her askance.

"According to your file, you've been having a few too many of those lately."

Lucie flushed, and glared at him. "Oh, shut up," she snapped. "Mind your own damn business. Do I pry into your personal life?"

"You don't have to," Severus said smoothly. "I'm sure Albus tells you everything. He's always made a point to tell me about yours."

"No, he never has mentioned anything about you, Sev, because he knows that I'm not interested."

Touche, thought Snape, with not a little humour. He'd missed sparring with her. "I'm glad to see that you never became sweet," he said. "I would never have liked you sweet."

"Doesn't matter, Sev. Gordie liked me just as I am, and he thought I was sweet enough." To push her point, Lucie favoured Snape with a sickeningly saccharine smile.

"Until you turned into a drunk, that is," Snape shot back acidly. Maybe he didn't miss the verbal fencing matches as much as he'd thought. "Then he dumped you."

"And now you're hoping and praying that I'm desperate enough to fall in to your scrawny arms," she said, grinning. "Fat chance. I could never be that drunk. Or that desperate." Lucie laughed at the sour expression on Snape's face. "Ah, thank you, Severus. I needed a break, and that was just right. You always did know how to distract me from my problems. But admit it, you never could win an argument with me."

"I did once."

"When was that? I don't recall." She smirked at him so annoyingly that he felt absolutely no qualms about getting nasty.

"I never wrote back to you." There. He sat back, smug.

"And then I married another man. End of argument. I win again!"

God, thought Snape. She just does not give up. "Yes, Lucie, you did win. Gordie didn't -- but you did, and that's all that ever seems to count with you."

Lucie yawned, and looked around. "Nice try, Sev. But no, that's not all that's ever counted with me." She swung her chair around to face him. "You used to count with me. You used to count a great deal." She stared directly at him. "And you broke my heart. There. Truth be told, you did win. Just that once. Did that make you happy?"

Severus couldn't seem to find his voice, and the silence stretched out between them. He couldn't look away from those tea-coloured eyes that he had loved so much. Finally, he swallowed, once, twice, and then spoke in a soft voice. "No. That didn't make me happy."

She regarded him with a sympathetic expression. "Me, neither." They gazed at each other for a long moment, then Lucie said, with the air of someone trying to change the topic, "This room brings back memories. God, the amount of times Slughorn gave me detention in this damned classroom. Remember? There was me, Margherita, oh, a whole whack of us girls from 'Claw, always getting detention for something or other. I swear Slughorn had enough pickled rats' brains to supply a hundred schools. He just didn't like us because we were smarter than those Slytherin dullards." Lucie laughed again, as Snape's jaw dropped. "We used to have a great time, though…old Sluggy didn't mind how much we talked. We used to sit and talk and pickle those damned brains for hours. To this day I won't eat anything that's been pickled, because it all looks like rat brains to me. It was a pretty good time, though. I always liked old Sluggy." She gave Snape a sly grin. "I heard his successor was a real jerk."

Snape sighed, exasperated, and glared at her. "Burnt-out drunk."

"Overgrown bat!"

"Overfed harpy!"

"Anorexic vampire!"

"Hag!"

"Troll!"

They glared at each other for a moment longer, mouths twitching. Finally neither could hold back any longer, and they both burst out laughing. "That made absolutely no sense whatsoever. I've missed you, Lucie," Snape said, still chuckling.

"Yeah," she said, turning her attention back to the map. "I've missed you, too. It's your own fault, though."

"Oh, for…will you just give it a rest, already!"

Still smiling, Lucie returned to work.

Severus did not pursue the matter of Lucie's drinking further. Her problems were her own, and if she chose to seek help for them, he'd be only too happy to help her -- but she had to want to help herself first.

I sound like a therapist, he thought, amused. Smirking a little, he looked back at the map, as she tapped it again with one slim finger.

"You've become quite proficient at wandless magic. It's a very difficult thing to master," he observed, hoping to put them back on a more civil ground.

"Thanks. It's necessary in my field." She smiled, but did not look at him as she listened to the phone in her hand. After a moment, she tapped another number to blue.

"Do you still have a wand?" He remembered the one that she had used at Hogwart's -- a beautifully carved and polished piece of mahogany, with the heartstring of a Hungarian Horntail at its core. It had been surprisingly delicate and ornate, considering the solid earthiness of its owner. Yet, as he had gotten to know her better, Severus had come to realize that Lucie's wand was, in fact, completely appropriate for her. Particularly the dragon heartstring core. If anyone had any dragonish-ness about her, it was Lucie.

"I still have my old one, yes," she said, looking up at him briefly before returning her attention to the board. "But it's packed away somewhere. I never use it -- wandless magic needs to be practised every day, or you lose the ability. For those of us in the CMLE, depending on a wand is something that can become a fatal disadvantage in a real big hurry, Sev."

"True," he admitted. He could manage the basics in wandless magic, but he was nowhere near as skilled as she was. Falling silent, he watched her for a few moments, watched her speaking into her SkinPhone and tapping the map occasionally.

Soon enough, there were little blue numbers appearing all over the map. Lucie, along with Harry and Ron, had been going non-stop, setting up the command consoles and co-ordinating training and organization efforts all over the globe. It was a rather awesome thing to watch.

"And Code Blue means…"

"Fully trained, fully outfitted, and raring to go. Code White means untrained and un-outfitted. Code Yellow means untrained, but outfitted with the DarkScan Wands, SkinPhones, Emergency Apparation Beacons, Nullification Nodules, and Personal Shield Suits. Code Red indicates that the troops have been outfitted and are in the process of being trained in both how to use their equipment, the command protocols that we will be using for this operation, as well as anything else that they will need to know."

She leaned backwards again and looked up at Severus. "We've also got a special unit set up just for Azkaban Prison -- they're comprised of four squadrons to secure the location, and one entire squadron of Apparating Paramedics." Her lips thinned. "We don't know what to expect in there."

Severus sat down in a nearby chair, and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "What are Nullification Nodules?"

Lucie grinned. "Let's just say that the Weasleys are going to need a new house to hold all the Orders of Merlin that they're going to receive. What a family! Must be something in the water." She shook her head, still smiling. Across the room, Ron grinned and gave her the thumbs-up. "Fred and George, along with old Mad Eye, have devised these small, ultra-portable detention units." She reached into a pocket and pulled out a small, blue plastic pellet. "You've apprehended your bad guy; you either stun or petrify said bad guy; then, you tap this pellet and say "Nullificator!" Lucie drew her wand and demonstrated. The blue pellet expanded into a body-sized blue bag. "This wraps around the petrified or stunned bad guy, immobilizing them and sending them into an artificially-induced deep sleep for up to three days. The small pump here --" She indicated the small blue knot on the top end of the bag, "keeps a good airflow. Because the victim is stunned, they can survive without food or water for three days, as there are very few metabolic functions operating when they are stunned."

"So basically," she continued, "You've apprehended your bad guys, but still have more bad guys to take on. Or something else to do. Whatever. This immobilises them for safe transport, and gets them out of the way. This will free up our troops to keep going, rather than have to deal with each bad guy as they come across them." She folded up the bag and tossed it into the waste receptacle, and looked over at Severus. "They're not re-usable. But those things will save a lot of lives."

Snape couldn't help himself; he laughed. "Those damned twins! And to think, how many times did I lecture them to pay attention and stop wasting their time?"

Lucie grinned, then her SkinPhone vibrated. "Lucie here," she said, becoming all business at once.

"Four-eighty checking in, Lucie. Zone sixty-seven -- Toronto, Ontario, Canada, Code Blue."

"Copy that, four-eighty, and thank you, old buddy. Pass that along to your team, they busted their tails getting to Blue, and I know it. I appreciate it."

"Copy that, Lucie. Who are you calling old? Four-eighty out."

"Lucie out." Laughing, she tapped the red "480" on the map, and it turned blue. "Remember my friend and potions-detention-mate Margherita? She's in charge of 480. That was her."

"The gorgeous one from 'Claw, yes, I remember. You still keep in touch?"

"Oh yeah, all the time. She's in CMLE in Toronto. Captain." Lucie paused, then frowned slightly. "You thought she was gorgeous?"

"Everyone did," Snape said, smirking, ignoring Lucie's irritated frown. He was watching the activity at the other consoles. "Jealous?"

"You wish."

At the minor consoles on either sides of the room, Ron Weasley had tapped three more numbers to blue, and Harry had upgraded several from yellow to red, as well as a few to blue. Whatever changes that they made to their consoles immediately appeared on Lucie's console, which was the master console. Severus watched in silence for a few more moments.

"You're a natural leader, Luce."

She shook her head. "But not the gorgeous one." Shecurled her lipat him, and he grined widely. "It all comes down to an age-old concept, Sev. Treat people the way you want to be treated. Let them know what's expected of them, and give them steady feedback. No one likes to feel ignored or unappreciated. People work harder when they know they're being expected to."

"Voldemort uses much of the same methods that you do. However, his feedback is a bit more painful, if you don't come up to scratch."

"Say what one will about him, he's a great leader. He's done wonders with a completely different type of employee. Albus thinks he's brilliant. Too bad he's also a complete ass." Lucie shrugged, then added, "I've got to get back to work."

"How about a lunch break?"

"Too much to do." At this, both Ron and Harry swivelled around to look at her.

"Lucie, you go for lunch, then I will, then Harry will. We'll cover you," said Ron, leaning away from the map for a moment.

Lucie looked over at Ron Weasley. "No, I'm fine. You go to lunch, and…"

"We're not going until you've gone," said Harry, firmly.

"Insubordination," she replied, mildly, but she was already getting out of her chair. She knew when not to argue.

"So Crucio us," said Ron, grinning.

"Yeah," she snorted. "Yeah, I'll get right on that." Lucie laid a hand briefly on Ron's shoulder as she passed by him on her way to the door, and made eye contact with both of them. "Fine, then. I'll grab a half-hour lunch, and then you two can each take a break. You can decide for yourselves who goes when."

"Copy that, Lucie," said Harry cheekily. Beside him, Ron gave her the thumbs-up, and said, "Code Blue."

"Smart alecs," she muttered, as she and Severus made their way for the Great Hall.

"Indeed, try having them as students. See this?" He pointed at a streak of silver in his dark hair. "I call this one "Potter". And see these?" He indicated several more strands of silver. "Ron Weasley, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, oh, and this one is Ginny Weasley. Worst of the lot. Sweet on the outside, devil on the inside. Red-headed menaces to mental stability."

Lucie dissolved into giggles. "Oh, you're impossible. I like the grey. It looks great on you. Makes you look more distinguished, and less like an overgrown bat."

Snape slanted her an ironic, amused glance as they took their seats. Instantly several food-filled dishes appeared in front of them. "I'm starving," Lucie said, pullling a bowl of pasta towards her. "Oh look, there's Hagrid!"

Snape looked up to see Hagrid, accompanied by Draco Malfoy and Simon Nigel-Nickerson, sliding into seats at their table.

"Lucie," Nigel-Nickerson said in his rough voice. "Flitwick's got the rest of the supplies you needed, and he's having them Apparated to the rest of the squadrons as we speak."

"Oh, good," she said around a mouthful of food. She swallowed, and continued. "We're getting up to speed. Drop by after lunch and I'll update you."

"Sure thing. Severus? How's it going?" Simon pulled a plate of hot rolls towards him. Around them, there were people scattered here and there, having lunch. Because of the varied activity going on in the castle, there were no set meal times anymore -- when the kitchen elves saw someone new come in, whatever food was prepared was Apparated onto their table.

"Excellent. Hagrid and I have put together a list of 'hot spots', and we've sent preliminary scouts out."

"Good. Get that list to Lucie, to help with deployment --"

"Yeah, have your people contact mine. We'll do lunch." Lucie said, heaping her plate with a second helping of pasta. Severus bit back a grin. There was never any competing with her for appetite. It was refreshing, though, he thought, remembering some of the girls he had dated over the years. No "lettuce leaf and a glass of water" for her. He, himself, was only halfway through his salad.

"Draco, how you doing?" Lucie asked, smiling at the young man. He slowly smiled back.

"Fine, thank you." He took a small bite of chicken. "Busy, but that's all right."

"Bet you are," she continued, cheerfully. "Hang in, bud. How's your mum and dad?"

"The same." He sighed, and shrugged. "Who knows?"

"Have faith," Lucie said, squeezing Draco's hand over the table. He squeezed back, briefly, and gave her a small smile; then, he returned to his food.

He continued to watch her thoughtfully, though, while he ate his lunch. Around them, the conversation continued. One thing caught Lucie's attention, and she dragged her fascinated gaze from the enchanted ceiling, which was overcast and laden with heavy, dark-bottomed clouds. Damn, she thought. Looks like rain.

"What do you mean, the Stadium's not expanded yet? I need that done!" She glowered into her dessert.

"It's not a priority, Lucie…" Nigel-Nickerson began, but she cut him off.

"Yes, it is."

"What do you want to use it for?"

"Well, Simon, duh! What do you think? We'll challenge Voldemort to a game of Quidditch… Oh, never mind. Let's get our ducks all in a row first; then, we'll discuss it. But it is a priority. I need it done by oh-eight-hundred."

"Belay the attitude, Degrace. And you're asking rather a lot," Simon snapped. She put down her fork and glared at him.

"Yes, I am. I need you to get this done for me, Simon. That's why I asked. I'm too busy getting nearly two hundred thousand troops ready for action. I need your help, Simon. Can you do this for me?"

The silence stretched between them. Finally, Simon sighed. "Yes. If it's important to you -- then, yes." He shook his head, amused. "I think I just got Lucie'd."

"Thank you." Lucie held his eye for a second longer, then grabbed another slice of caramel cheesecake. "I've got to get back, Harry and Ron are waiting for me." She swallowed the last bite without chewing, slapped Severus playfully on the back, causing him to choke on the sip of tea that he had just taken, and she bounded out of her chair. Draco hurried to walk with her.

"Uh, Lucie?"

"Yes, Draco?" Smiling at him as she strode along, she waved a quick hello to Albus and Kingsley at another table. "What can I do for you?" She reached up and used the back of her hand to wipe cheesecake crumbs from her mouth. Draco stared at her in horrified fascination.

"I need to talk to you."

"Sure. Go ahead."

"No, not here." He looked around, furtively. "In private."

"Oh." Lucie paused and looked up at him. "All right. When?"

"Can I come to your room tonight? Say about midnight?" His blue eyes bored into hers.

"Uh…sure."

"Thanks. It's a date." With a small smirk, he turned and headed back to rejoin Hagrid. Lucie watched him go, feeling a bit awkward.

Yikes! She thought, anxiously. What was that all about?

xxx

Around ten p.m., they all gathered in the potions classroom that housed Lucie's command console, somewhat more or less refreshed. Lucie had managed to sneak in a half-hour catnap, and had sent Harry and Ron for a couple of hours rest earlier that evening. They had returned about an hour ago, still with dark shadows under their eyes but looking a bit more alert. "Alright, then," said Simon as they arranged themselves in classroom chairs around a table that Severus had transfigured out of several desks. He sat next to Albus and Arthur. "Let's have a report, shall we?"

Snape stood, and said, smoothly, "All information has been communicated to Lucie's team in regards to suspected locations of Death Eater activity. As well, all available information has been communicated in regards to Azkaban Prison, and the suspected location of Voldemort. However," He paused, and his face looked troubled. "Voldemort shows signs of still being in the location where he was when…when Remus and I blew our cover and …ah… were…ah…"

"We know, Severus," said Albus quietly.

"Yes, well." Severus cleared his throat, and continued. "My concern is -- why? Why has he not moved base? He knows that we know…"

Simon and Lucie exchanged startled glances; then, almost as one, they sat back with looks of deep concern on their faces. Lucie frowned speculatively.

"Proceed. Status, Luce?" Simon said. She spoke up.

"Yes, everything is a go. We've got one hundred percent Code Blue status, across the board."

Every head swivelled towards her, and Simon actually clapped his hands. "Brilliant, Luce! How'd you manage that?"

"Waved a big stick, Simon."

"Well done, girl. Well, well done."

She grinned. "It was a team effort. Harry and Ron are to be commended for their hard work. And I do believe that Harry cashed in on his name a bit." She winked at Harry, and he blushed a little.

"Excuse me?" Arthur stared at her, and she laughed.

"Imagine you're a squadron leader, and you've got Harry Potter asking you to step it up to Code Blue! Who are you to argue with the Chosen Boy Who Lived, or whatever it is they call him?"

Everyone laughed for a moment. "Brilliant," repeated Simon. "All right, then. We are all Code Blue, it appears. Everyone is outfitted, everyone is briefed, everyone is in place. The medical situation has been arranged. Minerva and the Aurors are a go, Filius has everything here under control, Severus and Hagrid have all the information we need at our wandtips…oh, and Lucie darling, your Stadium is renovated as per your specifications. You'd better be appreciative, too -- I had to call in Albus to give me a hand with that. Big job, that was, m'dear."

"Ah, bless you Simon, you're a good man. A good man, you are. Oh, and you are too, Albus." She grinned tiredly at the two men.

"Flattery will get you everywhere." Simon grinned back. "Now, we need to discuss…"

Lucie held up a hand. "May I offer my recommendations?"

"Well…uh, yes. Certainly. Go ahead, Luce. Don't let me stop you from interrupting," Simon said drily. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Thank you." Lucie stood, and began to speak. "Tomorrow morning at oh-eight-hundred, I wish to use the AllCall feature to summon each and every member of Team Phoenix…all one hundred and seventy-some thousand of them -- to the Stadium, formerly the Quidditch World Cup British Stadium. Albus, you, Arthur, Simon, myself and Severus will address the troops. Harry, you too. Then I suggest we launch the offensive from there."

The room went completely silent, and they all stared at her.

Severus was the first to break the silence. "Lucie…are you mad? We were planning on launching an offensive early next week…"

"Yes, that's what I made sure the Daily Prophet got wind of." She smiled.

"But…"

"Severus, those troops are ready to go NOW. Voldemort's not expecting such a quick attack. The time is ripe. Everyone's worked hard to get ready, and we're not letting them stew on their own nervousness. It's now or never."

"Well, that makes sense, I guess," said Hagrid. "An' Voldemort won't have time to move his base, an' all…"

At this, Lucie looked at Simon, who had said nothing so far. At his nod, she said, "But he already has moved his base, hasn't he?"

"Our surveillance shows--," Snape began, but Simon held up a hand.

"It shows us what he wants us to see," Simon interrupted. "Use your inner gut, Severus. Your instincts are good, very good. You, yourself thought it was odd that he hadn't moved. He's moved, all right. But I'll bet you sickles to sandwiches that he's left decoys to fool us. Smart guy, that Voldemort."

"For an overconfident, petty, two-bit, ass-brained dictator --" Lucie added, but Simon silenced her with a glare.

Severus bit his lip, thinking. "Possible," he said at last. "It's possible…"

Simon spoke up again. "But where has he moved to? That's the question…Or where is he planning to move to." Simon folded his arms. "Severus? You know him better than anyone in this room. What do you think?"

Severus shook his head, thinking furiously.

"Where would Voldemort feel the safest?", asked Simon.

"At the center of his Death Eaters." Lupin spoke. "That's how he prefers to operate."

"They're scattered, tho', aren't they?" said Hagrid.

"Yes." Severus's eyes were unfocused, and he pursed his lips in concentration. "Yes, they are. That is most unusual for him." He frowned.

"Seems to me, then, that he's afraid of being alone, and the fact that his cronies are all over the place is rather ominous, wouldn't you say?" Lucie chewed her thumbnail, a gesture that Snape remembered well from years past. She was in her deepest state of concentration.

"Wait," said Albus, suddenly. Severus looked up at him with instant, complete understanding. "No, not alone. He's not afraid of that. He's afraid of death." He paused, looking at everyone in the room. "Voldemort's greatest fear is death."

Lucie looked at Albus, her eyes fiery, and she jumped up and began to pace in agitation. "Really. Huh. Albus…remember when I was a kid, and I used to go up to the top of the north tower and stand at the very edge?"

"Yes, but…"

"Because my greatest fear was heights! I was terrified of heights! And to conquer that fear, I faced that fear! I had to expose myself to my greatest fear and render myself completely vulnerable to it! What if Voldemort has done the same thing?"

"He wouldn't kill himself," said Severus, frowning.

"No. But maybe he's going to expose himself to the thing he fears most! Death! Think of it. If he can conquer his greatest fear, then he will think that he is invincible." She swung around to face Simon. "Death…the greatest mystery of them all…the one thing that he cannot know, without having experienced it…"

Simon yelped. "Mystery! You're right! The Department of Mysteries! The Veil!"

The atmosphere in the small room suddenly became charged, electric. Simon looked at Lucie. "Contact the squadron on duty at the Veil."

Without another word, Lucie held her hand up to her face and whispered, "Ninety-Nine. Squadron Ninety-Nine. Come in."

They waited in deafening silence. She became aware of Harry watching her, his gaze hard, and she remembered. Ginny Weasley -- Harry's girlfriend -- was in Squadron Ninety-Nine. They were due back tomorrow morning, to be replaced with Squadron Seventeen.

"Ninety-nine. Come in, Ninety-Nine. Anyone from Squadron Ninety-Nine. Respond, please."

Simon looked down at the floor, knowing sorrow on his face.

"Ninety-Nine. Anyone from Ninety-Nine. Respond."

"My daughter is serving in Ninety-nine," whispered Arthur Weasley. His face was ashen. "Ginny is there." He looked at Albus, pleading. "Not another one…I can't take it if…if…" He covered his face with his hands, and Albus placed his hand on Arthur's shoulder. Harry sat perfectly still, just staring at Lucie.

After a moment, Simon closed his eyes briefly. He then looked up at the map, where all squadron numbers glowed blue. The glowing golden dot that represented the stadium shone like a star in the gloom. He took a deep breath, and turned back to face the room.

"And so it begins," he said, softly. His lined, unshaven face was sorrowful.

"Now?", whispered Albus, as he rose to stand beside him. He looked from Simon, to Lucie, to Severus. They all looked tired, exhausted…but they all burned with some kind of an inner light...the light of warriors ready for battle, he thought.

"Yes," Albus said to Simon. "Yes. You're right. Now is the time." He sighed. "And may God have mercy on our souls." He paused, then added, "And on the souls of Ninety-Nine." Beside him, Arthur bit back a sob. Ron stood with his hands on his father's shoulders. Harry still had not moved. But Simon and Lucie saw, in Harry's vivid green eyes, the hard look that they had seen in many young officer's eyes over the years. Officers who had a score to settle.

Well, thought Lucie, watching Harry. If anyone ever had a score to settle, it was Potter.

That dumbass Voldemort, she thought. He has no idea what's coming his way. But one thing's for certain. He's earned it. He's sure as hell earned it.

Lucie looked to Simon, who nodded. She nodded back, then held her hand up to her mouth, and spoke in a firm, clear voice. If her hand shook a little, no one except Snape noticed.

"AllCall: All squadrons, report to Shining Star immediately. Repeat. This is Lucie Degrace. All squadrons, mobilize and report to Shining Star immediately. Code Blue to Green. I repeat: Code Blue to Green. Respond."

On the large world map beside them, each small blue number began to turn green, as one by one, each squadron reported receipt of the message and compliance. All, that was, except for Squadron Ninety-Nine, stationed at the Department of Mysteries.

Their number would remain forever blue.

The console room was strangely silent, although they could hear all round them the sounds of the castle coming to life, and Simon pulled the keyring out of his pocket that shone with a bright, golden glow. He held it out, and one by one, they crowded around it. They waited until Albus finished speaking to Minerva on his SkinPhone. And then, as if on an unspoken signal, they all touched the glowing metal object, and felt the sickening pull of the portkey, as it transported them to the Stadium.

xxx

It was a fantastic scene.

Severus Snape stood in the top box at the newly-enlarged Quidditch World Cup Stadium, staring down at a sight that he could never have imagined. It was utterly fantastic, it was glorious--it was completely terrifying. One hundred and seventy-seven thousand witches and wizards, from all corners of the globe, all come together to fight as Team Phoenix. To put an end to the Terrorist Voldemort forever.

He gulped, and felt a tear spill down his cheek. He was, in a word, overwhelmed. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself, and glanced at the others in the box with him, to see if they were as moved as he by this incredible sight.

"Team Phoenix," said Albus, stepping forward and raising his arms, with his voice magically amplified. The thousands upon thousands of troops cheered madly. "I am Albus Dumbledore, Acting Minister For Magic of Britain." The cheers grew louder. Arthur Weasley stepped forward, and spoke into his wand.

"Arthur Weasley, Deputy Minister of Magic!"

"Simon Nigel-Nickerson, Commander-In-Chief of Team Phoenix!" The cheers grew even louder.

"Lucie Degrace, Co-Commander of Team Phoenix!" The cheering grew even louder still.

Severus realized that Lucie was looking at him. She gave him an encouraging nod, and, trembling, he stepped forward and raised his arm. "Severus Snape, Co-Commander of Team Phoenix!", he yelled, astonished as the cheering reached a deafening level.

Then, looking slightly dazed, but determined, Harry stepped forward, and spoke, firmly, into his wand. "Harry Potter." His face was steady and resolute. There was no trace of grief on his young face, but Snape knew that it was there, and his heart went out to the young man. He's had to endure so much, Snape thought, sadly. The poor kid. It's not right.

The troops brought their cheers to a new level, and the energy in the stadium was almost palpable. Simon leaned over and yelled to Lucie, "Give 'em a Lucie Pep Talk, girl!"

She nodded, and stepped back into the spotlight. She held up her hands, until the crowd quieted down some, and then she spoke.

"Team Phoenix…we salute you! Each and every one of you are heroes. You have come, to answer the call in the darkest hour, and we are proud and honoured to stand with you!" The cheers reached a deafening level again, and Lucie continued, yelling, "We are Team Phoenix! We have come from all over the world, to join forces and to restore freedom to our brothers and sisters here in Britain! We have come to prevent the spread of evil and tyranny! We are Team Phoenix, and together…WE…WILL…WIN! Such an army can NOT be defeated!"

The Stadium actually shook from the noise and the stamping of feet. Lucie paused for a moment, and smiled over at Severus, her eyes oddly bright. He reached over and squeezed her hand. She squeezed back, and he gave her an encouraging smile. He knew that she could not hear him, but he mouthed the words, "I love you", and was gratified to see the shocked look on her face. For a long moment, they simply gazed at one another, and he smiled gently at her. Then, on her other side, Simon took her free hand, and, as though on an unspoken signal, they all raised their hands together. The crowd roared its approval.

"Team Phoenix," Simon yelled, his voice hoarse from hours of tactical co-ordinating for the last two days. "We stand united! We stand as one!" He chuckled, and looked at Lucie, who winked. "Now how's about we go kick some Voldemort Ass, and send him straight to hell, where he belongs!"

There was laughter and cheering from the crowd, and, in a sight even more awesome than before, all over the Stadium, thousands upon thousands of troops linked hands and raised them up. The top box was silent, and overwhelmed. Severus looked back at Lucie, still holding her hand up. There were tears pouring down her cheeks.

With his free hand, he reached over and wiped them away. After a moment, she smiled and wiped away his own tears. They could just hear Simon, his voice no longer amplified, over the crowd.

"Hey, you two!"

"Yes, Simon?" Lucie said, not taking her eyes off Severus.

"Knock it off. Get a room. Everyone can see you, you know."

Lucie burst out laughing, and leaned against Severus, who also burst out laughing. After a moment, he wrapped his arms around her, and they forgot about everything else.


	8. Harry Goes

Chapter Eight: Harry Goes

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At one end of the former potions classroom, Harry Potter was getting ready. While muted discussions were taking place around them, they could still hear the reports coming in at the console at a hugely fast pace. Lucie was becoming inundated, but Harry was unable to help. Beside her, Ron was working as fast as he could to keep up.

"Forty-two, to zone seventeen. Copy that. Three-twenty, back them up. Zone seventeen, stat." She spoke clearly and rapidly, tapping the map with one hand and using the SkinPhone on her other.

"This is forty-two, Lucie, copy. We're encountering heavy activity here. Lots of Inferi. Creepy bastards, ain't they? I'd say the word is out."

"We knew it would be. Copy forty-two. Three-twenty should be arriving now." She tapped the map again.

"Just arrived, copy. We could use more help."

"Copy, forty-two. Next squadron up?" She glanced over at Ron, who hurriedly checked the glowing blue numbers to the side of the map.

"Uh…six-oh-seven, Lucie."

"Thank you, Ron. Six-oh-seven, copy. Zone seventeen, stat."

"Zone seventeen, copy."

"Forty-two, status? Copy."

"Status a go, Lucie. Although if you want to send any more troops, they won't go to waste. Copy."

"Copy that, forty-two. Next squadron up?" She glanced at Ron quickly, after marking the new position of Six-Oh-Seven on the map.

"Six-eighty."

"Six-eighty, zone seventeen, stat. Copy."

"Copy that, Ms. DeGrace."

"Lucie, forty-two here -- we're good now. Will advise as situation progresses. Copy."

"Copy that, forty-two. Give 'er." She grinned fiercely, and began to turn her attention to the next squadron.

"Copy that. Forty-two out."

On the map overhead, Ron Weasley was doing all he could to keep the squadron numbers moving to their new locations. "This is bloody complicated, this is," he said, shaking his head.

"Ah, you're doing fine, Ron. Keep up the good work." Lucie grinned and slapped him on the back. "Once deployment is completed, it'll be all maintenance."

"Good," he said fervently. She laughed.

"All right, Ron?" Harry asked, looking over at him. "You almost ready?"

"Yeah, yeah. Hold on…" Harried, Ron tapped a few more places on the map. What had originally been a scattered mass of over seven hundred dots was now a precise outline of all of Britain. Particularly bright was the tiny area where the island housing Azkaban Prison was -- troops were concentrated there. So far, there were no gaps in the glowing perimeter, and there were still dozens of blue numbers scattered worldwide, waiting for their call to duty. Ron looked over at Harry. "Ready for what? What's up?"

"Ron -- you coming?" Harry didn't look at Lucie, but maintained eye contact with his best friend as he changed into his gear. Not that he was going to need it, he thought, but figured it was best not to say anything yet.

Lucie muted her SkinPhone to glance incredulously at Harry. "I can't do this alone!"

He glared stubbornly back. "I won't do this without Ron." 

"Simon!", Lucie called, swinging around in her chair. From the table in the centre of the room, Nigel-Nickerson looked up from the parchment in his hands and frowned at her.

"Yes, Lucie?"

"I can't do this alone, Simon."

"Right," he said, standing up. "Right, then. Lucie, hold on a minute. Harry…name your team."

"Ron," Harry said, ignoring Lucie's frustrated exclaimation. "Hagrid. Snape. Hermione. Luna. Neville. Remus."

"Hermione's too busy in the hospital wing, Harry," Simon said. In the background, Lucie yelped.

"Damn it! We can't spare half those people! What the hell! Why didn't you plan this out earlier? I asked you earlier to handle this, so I could have a backup ready!"

"You said I could name my team," said Harry, looking steadily at Simon and refusing to back down.

Simon sighed. "Fine. Lucie, you know better. You should have had a backup planned already. Harry, is that going to be enough?" He ignored her outraged squawk of protest.

"Should be." Harry's face was wooden. "They're the people I trust the most, other than the people who are in charge here."

Albus Dumbledore stood. "Simon, you and I need to go along as well, I think. Arthur…please take command."

"Certainly, Albus."

"No problem, Albus," said Simon. He was already decked out in gear. "I'd planned to crash the party anyway," he grinned rakishly. 

From the console, Lucie said, exasperated, "Simon!" He walked over and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, which she tried to shrug off, with no success.

"Right. Luce, we're not leaving you cold here. We'll get you some help, just give me a minute please. Minerva and Filius are in charge of operations here, along with Shacklebolt…"

"Check," said the reassuring voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt. He was monitoring a separate console, one that had moving silver dots labelled with the names of his Aurors and the castle staff.

"And…Hagrid, can you spare anyone? If not, we can get an Auror…"

"I've only got two people here at the castle, Simon --"

"Who?"

"Malfoy and Finnegan."

"I'll take Malfoy," called Lucie, moving her hand away from her face. "I don't know Finnegan."

"Finnegan's got medical training," suggested Hagrid. "Send him to th' hospital wing t'help cover off Hermione."

"Brilliant, Hagrid. Can you get right on this?"

"Aye. Draco," Hagrid said, tapping the palm of his hand. "Need yeh up at Lucie's console."

"Yes, Hagrid, I'll be right there," came the tinny-sounding reply.

"Oh, and Malfoy, is Seamus wit' yeh?"

"Right here, sir. We're helping Flitwick allocate replacement supplies for the troops' outfits."

"Good, good. Send Finnegan to th' hospital wing to help out, an' you get up here to th' console."

"Right away, sir."

Hagrid tapped his SkinPhone again, and said, "Flitwick."

"Yes, Hagrid."

"I've stolen yer help…"

"No problem, Hagrid, I've got some Aurors helping me, too."

"Good, then. Good luck to yeh. Arthur Weasley's in charge."

"Fine."

Hagrid clicked off the connection, and turned to the others. "That's it, then."

"Excellent. Lucie? Hagrid? Kingsley? Are you three alright with the new setup?" Hagrid and Kingsley nodded. At her console, Lucie continued speaking rapidly into her SkinPhone, her other hand tapping the console like mad, but she did pause just long enough to nod affirmative to Simon. He smiled. "Let us depart, then. Harry?" Simon moved away from Lucie, and walked over to the group assembling around Harry Potter. They would use a Portkey to transport to the heart of London, and from there, make their way to the demolished Ministry Of Magic, where the Department of Mysteries, and the mysterious Veil, still stood (albeit magically hidden from prying muggle eyes, for obvious reasons.)

"Yes. I'm ready." Harry spoke firmly.

Lucie paused at the console and turned to look at Harry and his team. "Good luck, you guys," her eyes lingering on Severus. Her golden eyes looked worried.

Giving into pure impulse, Severus limped over to her and caught her up in a quick, hard kiss, which quickly turned deeper, and much more tender, to accompanying jeers and wolf calls from the others. "I'll see you soon," he whispered, before he stepped away. Standing with Harry and the others, Albus flashed a quick grin and a wink at her.

Lucie, blushing, tried to smile back, and found that she couldn't. Her head bowed, she turned back to her console and began talking into her SkinPhone again, barely pausing to acknowledge a grinning Malfoy, who had arrived just in time to see the kiss. After Harry's party Apparated, Malfoy tapped her shoulder.

"Hey, Lucie?"

She looked back up at Draco, to find him smiling at her. "Don't worry. He'll be all right. He'll come back to you." Malfoy knelt beside her, took her hand in between both of his, and looked earnestly at her. "He wants to be here with you. I know. We've talked. He's crazy about you." He gave her another reassuring smile and a quick hug, and moved over to the chair beside her. Now that the battle had been engaged, only the main console was in use.

Her eyes stinging, Lucie smiled crookedly at Malfoy, and went back to work.

xxx

Less than two hours later, Lucie and Draco were able to relax. "Finally, everyone's deployed. What a freak-out that was." She leaned back in her chair and rubbed her red, burning eyes. Behind them, the map showed a tight perimeter of glowing blue numbers surrounding Britain, along with strategically-placed troops both within and without. Lucie's SkinPhone continued to spew status reports, and she tapped her hand with her other hand, causing the voices to quiet and a small, round purple box beside her started printing out status reports on a long piece of paper. She read it idly as she crossed her legs and stretched her aching shoulders. "Thank you, Draco. You picked up fast, and I needed that. Thank you."

Draco sat down beside her and yawned. "Hey, no problem. This is really interesting stuff! Here," he said, drawing his wand and waving at a spot behind them. A small table appeared, and with a couple more taps of his wand, a plate of sandwiches and two tall glasses of orange juice appeared. "I'm starved," he said, cramming half a sandwich in his mouth.

"Me too," Lucie said, taking a long drink of the juice. "Oh, that's good. It could use a shot of something, though."

Draco stopped chewing, and stared at her. "Really?"

She laughed, and took a sandwich. "Just a figure of speech. I'll have to stop joking like that, everyone takes me too seriously."

"Oh," he said. After a second, he began to speak rapidly, as though afraid to lose his nerve. "Because your file said that you were suspended from your job, back in Canada, for showing up at work drunk. Hagrid and I had to review your file after we brought you to the castle. Standard procedure," he added apologetically. He looked away, and started in on another sandwich, refusing to meet her eyes.

"Don't worry about it," Lucie said, evenly. "I quit drinking weeks ago, and it's not an issue. The issue is whether or not I'm going to return to Canada. I don't know if I want to go back. I mean, it was time for a change anyway." She took a large bite of her sandwich.

"No, I'm sorry, it's none of my business. It's just…well, Dumbledore was a bit worried about you. So's Hagrid. So's Severus." Draco looked up at her, through white-blonde bangs that were badly in need of cutting, and Lucie was reminded of Draco's earlier request.

"Don't worry about it, all right? Seriously," she added, at his sceptical look. "Look, just between you and me -- I had some rough times, a few months back. Simon and I had been working together on…well, on one hell of a case. Nothing I can talk about, sorry. But at the same time, my husband and I split up. It was just…well, it was just too much. I mean…eighteen years on the job, Gordie left without any warning, and, well, no, that's not fair. I had warning. I knew things were falling apart. It's just…well, seriously, I can't talk about the case. But I'll tell you something. As a cop, even one in Magical Law, you'll get your cases that you can't solve, no matter what. When it's homicide… when it's kids…" She stopped, and took another gulp of the juice, then sighed deeply. "Simon had his own problems to deal with, I couldn't lean on him. And for the first time ever, God, I just needed someone to lean on. Or something." Lucie bit her lip, a look of distress on her face. "So, I had a breakdown. Hey," she added, trying to lighten the glum mood. "Happens to the best of cops, right? Anyway…things are under control now. Simon's doing better, too. He's probably one of my best friends, you know?"

"Yeah, we had to review his file, too. He's a junkie."

Lucie felt a hot flash of anger at Draco's casual tone, and her jaw dropped. She slammed the rest of her sandwich down on the table. In that quick moment, she despised the judgemental child sitting next to her. Oh, it was just always so easy for outsiders to judge, to dismiss. They had no damned idea what they were talking about. "Yeah, well, do try to keep it to yourself, if you don't bloody well mind. He won't thank you to spread stories, and neither will I. And he's still one of the best special agents the MBI ever had. Don't dismiss him for one failing. If you're lucky, someday you might be half the man he is. And you know what, some day you'll remember this conversation and I can promise you that you're going to feel like the idiot that you look and sound like to me right now. Oh, and Draco, you know what else? It'll look real good on you!" She glared at him, her cheeks flushed.

Draco looked up swiftly, his widened blue eyes locking onto her angry golden eyes. "Hey, don't get upset…no, Lucie, I know he's a good agent, one of the best. I'm sorry -- I was just telling you what was in his file. He's a legend. And so are you. You're still one of the best homicide dicks in North America."

"I can't believe you just called me a 'dick'." She said, her anger draining away as fast as it came. Lucie had never been one to stay mad. A quick flash of temper and that was it, usually. She sighed deeply, and said, "Well, enough of that. What was it you wanted to talk to me about today?" Absently, she skimmed through the long strip of paper, looking for anything alarming. There was nothing. So far, so good. All squadrons were holding up. 

"Oh yeah," Draco said, starting in on the last sandwich. "Well, it's about Magical Law Enforcement, actually. Once this crap is done with," he waved an arm to indicate their surroundings, "You know, the whole Voldemort thing…I was wondering about moving to Canada, or the States. You know, trying to get on with MLE. Think you could help me?"

"Really?" Lucie was surprised. "What about your parents?"

His face grim, Draco said, "I can still visit them. But they won't even know I'm there."

"No change yet?" Lucie sighed.

"No." He looked away.

"Any hope?"

He was silent for a moment. Then he sighed and shook his head, unable to speak. 

Lucie studied him for a moment, frowning sympathetically as she continued to nibble on her food. She understood the need to get away and make a fresh start, and she knew where he was coming from. "Yeah. Yeah, definitely. I can help you. You'd be a real asset. I can tell."

He smiled wanly. "Is this one of your famous pep talks?"

"No," she said, seriously. "No. I have a knack for appraising people. You'd do great. I can tell. There's a real maturity about you sometimes, a real sense of capability. Potential. I'm sure Simon would be happy to work with you, too. If you don't mind working with a junkie."

Draco flushed. After a moment, he said, "Maybe I should apologize to him. After I tell him how I talked behind his back."

"I think maybe you should. That would be…a very adult… thing to do." 

She held his gaze for a long moment, and to his credit, Draco did not look away. He nodded, then said, "I'd rather work with you, though. MLE sounds more my speed than MBI. I think I'd rather be a cop than a special agent."

"Well," she said, clearing away the dishes with a wave of her hand, "When this all blows over, we'll talk, okay?" She turned back to her console. "But," she continued, "Just going with my inner gut -- you are special agent material. And if you ever change your mind, you can step down and become a cop. It's easier to step down than to climb up."

"Hmm," he said. "That's a good point. I'll think about it." They were silent for a moment. Then, as though he could read her mind, Draco said, "Wonder how Harry's team is doing?" 

"Simon told me to wait for his call, not to call and bug them." She smiled wryly.

"Wonder if we're right about Voldemort's location?"

Lucie bit her lip, thinking. "No idea, Draco. But I'd bet we are." She looked up at the map, at the unblinking blue "99". Her face grim, she said, "I'd bet you just about anything that we are. I'd bet you anything that the bastard is sitting there, just waiting for Harry and his team to walk into whatever trap he's got set for them."

She folded her arms and began to nibble on her thumbnail. Then she said, "God, I hope Harry's ready for him. I hope he can handle this."

"Because Heaven help him, if he can't."

Xxx

Hundreds of miles away, in an ancient, rubble-strewn basement in London, Lord Voldemort and Peter Pettigrew sat in the dark, alone, patiently waiting. 

Very patiently. 


	9. The Birdie And The Rat

Chapter Nine: The Birdie And The Rat 

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Overhead, in the ruined stone chamber that had once been the Department of Mysteries, a large, scrawny black spider carefully picked its way along the cracked ceiling. It listened carefully for signs of life, for conversation, but heard none. Still, it could sense that it was not alone.

A few feet further -- just around a large, square column -- the spider saw what it was looking for. After taking a good, long look around, it made good use of its many legs to quickly skitter back from where it came.

After several minutes, the spider reached an area with relatively fresh air, and spun a web to lower itself to the floor. Within seconds, where the spider had been, stood Severus Snape.

"Well?", asked Simon Nigel-Nickerson, in a hushed voice. "Is he in there?" The others crowded close, to hear what was being said.

"Yes, along with," Snape's lips quirked into a humourless smile, "Peter Pettigrew. Someone I have long been hoping to meet up with again. And that blasted snake. Nagini. I saw no others. I believe that they are alone. I saw no trace of Squadron Ninety-Nine." His face regretful, Snape brushed some dirt off his combat clothes, and retied his ponytail. "We should get co-ordinated now. I do not know if he is aware of our presence or not. But I believe it would be prudent to assume that he does."

"Have we walked into a trap, then?" Hermione looked around, anxiously, her wand clenched in her fist.

"Of course we have, Miss Gr -- sorry. Mrs. Weasley." Snape said, rather sharply. "Always assume that the Dark Lord is two steps ahead of you. Yes, we are precisely where he wants us to be. But that doesn't mean he's got us. We need to plan."

"Pettigrew owes Harry a life-debt, Severus," said Albus, quietly. "It wouldn't do to forget that."

"It also won't do to count on that, Albus." Snape rolled his eyes and looked away.

Beside him, Simon held up a hand for silence, and spoke softly and urgently into his SkinPhone. "Lucie," he whispered.

"Lucie here," came the soft reply. "What have you got for me, Simon?"

"The Birdie and the Rat, sweetheart. Got 'em both. Oh, and the Snake. Copy."

"Birdie and Rat and Snake, copy. Advise."

Simon grinned. "Plan CYA, doll. Copy that."

"Aye, Plan CYA, copy. Advise quantity. Copy."

"Ah," said Simon, looking off to the side. Around him, the members of Harry's team looked at him curiously. "Ah, sweetie, I'd say go big or go home. Whole damn thing. Copy."

"Copy that." Lucie sounded amused. "Stealth or sonic boom? Advise."

Simon grinned. "Stealth for now. Sonic boom on my command. Copy."

"Aye, Simon. CYA, stat. Stealth, stat. Advise on sonic boom. Copy."

"Copy that."

"Commence when? Advise. Copy."

"Make it…" Simon pursed his lips, noticed Snape watching him with a small smirk on his face. He realized that while the others appeared a bit confused, Snape had followed the conversation from the start. The man was too sharp by half.

"I would suggest," Snape said, softly, "to go with Stealth immediately. Have them stand by, then we can go to Sonic Boom with a second's notice." He quirked an eyebrow.

"Lucie darlin', get those ducks in a row right now. I'll advise you on Boom, copy."

"Copy, stat. And Simon, good luck." She sounded anxious.

"Thanks, sweetie. Out."

Around them, there was a soft whoosh of noise, as dozens of black-clad troops materialized. They were silent, and nearly impossible to see in their matte uniforms.

"Plan CYA?", Snape inquired, amused by the surprised faces around him.

"It's an old American term. 'Cover Your Ass'." Simon smiled. He turned to the leader. "Patrick, keep us surrounded at all times. Guard the perimeter. Maybe keep a few people checking further around."

"Aye, Simon. It's done."

"Thank you." Simon turned back to Harry and the others. "Now, then. Suggestions, anyone?"

Harry turned to face him, his expression firm. "We're going to walk right in and finish him off. That's it. Nothing fancy needed. I just need for you to back me up." He turned to make eye contact with everyone in his group. "Are you all with me?"

"You know we are, Harry," Hermione said earnestly. There were nods and murmurs of agreement from everyone there. After a moment, Harry smiled rather grimly.

"Well, then…let's go. Let's go get him."

Xxx

"What's Plan CYA?" Draco asked, back at Hogwart's. On the map, twenty purple dots had suddenly appeared around the Department of Mysteries, surrounding the shining silver ones representing Team Potter.

"Just a moment," Lucie said, raising her hand to her face. "Operation CYA, Squadrons One to Twenty, AllCall. Patrick, acknowledge."

"Copy, Lucie. We're in position, Stealth." A deep, smooth voice echoed from the SkinPhone.

"Copy that, Patrick. Stealth mode, observe only. Patrick, I have confirmation that the Birdie and the Rat and the Snake are inside. Copy."

"Copy, Lucie. Birdie,Rat and Snake."

"Simon Nigel-Nickerson is in command of Team Potter. He may relay orders to you directly, or to me to relay to you. Either way, Simon's orders take priority. Copy."

"Copy, no problem." She could hear a smile in the slim black man's voice. He added, "He's right beside me."

"Copy. He says you're the best."

"Flattery will get him nowhere." Patrick chuckled.

Lucie laughed. "Copy that, Patrick. Will advise as needed."

"Copy. Patrick out."

She turned to smile at Draco. "CYA: Cover Your Ass. Twenty teams of ten, all Special Agents. Simon hand-picked them for this mission. They're some of the best that the world has to offer." She turned back to the large map. "It's always nice to have friends, right?"

Draco's mouth quirked into a half-smile. "That's something that Voldemort wouldn't know a thing about." He shook his head and turned his attention back to the glowing numbers. "He's never had a friend in his life."

Lucie began to pull her hand back up to her face, her expression sombre. "That's sad," she said. "That's really sad. Well…time to check in with the squadrons." With a sigh, she tapped her SkinPhone. "Squadrons, AllCall. In numerical order, status please. Squadron One, go ahead…"

xxx

Their footsteps were silent, muffled by the soft-soled boots that they wore. Team Potter -- led by Potter -- made their way deeper into the ruined Department of Mysteries. Some dripping water along one wall made an irritating noise.

This place gave Harry the willies. He remembered the last time that he had been here, when he had watched his Godfather die. And now it appeared that Ginny was gone, also. If that was the case, then he hoped -- he hoped and prayed -- that she had died well. He hoped that she had given Voldemort a nasty time. A lump rose in his throat, and his eyes began to sting. Not now, he told himself. Hang on. It'll soon be over. Just hang on a little bit longer…

Everyone behind him was silent, wary, alert for danger. There was no danger. Not to them. Not really. Not unless he failed, that was. But that was not going to happen. He was not going to fail. His whole life -- everything he was -- was coming to a head. He was meeting his destiny here.

Albus and Simon had talked, in whispers, of several ideas of how to overtake Voldemort and Wormtail. Harry had let them go on, had even pretended to listen and to consider their ideas. But he had his own plan, and he didn't need their help. He didn't need them at all, really. But he'd wanted to have those he loved most with him. And as for Snape…well, they'd made their peace, and Harry wanted Snape to be there for the closure. His life had been just as messed up as Harry's had been, and he wanted Snape to see it through to the end.

They approached the room with the Veil. There was no one to impede their progress, no hidden traps, no nothing. But Harry wasn't fooled. He knew that Voldemort was sitting there, waiting for them. He knew that this was it. Him and Voldemort. The way that Voldemort had planned it. The scenario that Voldemort himself had unwittingly caused, by acting too hastily on an unproven, incomplete prophecy. Idiot, thought Harry. When one got right down to it, Voldemort really was nothing more than a complete idiot with delusions of grandeur.

Harry sensed the coldness, the dryness, of the old room, before they even set foot inside. He hadn't forgotten the smell of that damned room, either. It smelled musty and ancient, like a tomb.

At the threshold, Dumbledore caught Harry's elbow and looked at him, inquiringly. "Harry," he began, but Harry cut him off.

"Whatever happens, this is it," he whispered. He looked back at all those dear to him. "Thank you for coming with me." He held their gazes for a moment, then gave them a small smile. "Let's go. Stick close together -- and stay out of my way."

Snape's dark gaze bored into Harry's, as it had so many times before, and he could have sworn that he saw sadness and regret there. He gave Snape a nod, then turned away. "Let's go."

Harry took the lead. He walked into the room, which was glowing a bit weirdly from reflected lights in the water pooled on the battered floor. The Veil, at the far end, was the same as he remembered -- tattered, old, and blowing slightly in an invisible breeze. In fact, the air in the room was musty and still. There was no breeze. Harry could just hear the odd, discordant whispering that he had remembered so well from his first visit, that he had heard in his nightmares for the past few years. Nightmares that he had woken from, shaking and sweating. When Ginny was there, she would hold him silently, her forehead pressed against his forehead, until his shivers subsided.

Ginny. His heart squeezed at the thought of her, and he pushed the thought ruthlessly aside. Not now. He could not afford to be distracted now. Later…

There was no sign of Squadron Ninety-nine, no sign that they had ever existed, but Harry knew, in his gut, what had happened to them. They'd gone through the Veil, all twenty-five of them. Stunned, most likely, if not already dead from the Avada Kedavera curse. Good old Voldemort had decided to clean house. That bastard.

The bastard was sitting on the floor in front of the Veil, his white face peaceful and serene, as though in meditation. He did not look surprised, nor did he look alarmed, at the newcomers' arrival. He looked pleased.

To his right sat Wormtail, looking a lot twitchier than Voldemort did. To his left, Nagini lay curled. She watched them intently through her slitted pupils. Harry could sense the tension in the others surrounding him shooting up a few notches. He took a few deep breaths, in order to settle himself. It would not do to rush.

"Hello, Harry." Voldemort smiled, and with a smooth, graceful motion, stood up. "So nice of you to visit. And you've brought friends. How touching." He drew his wand, his face watchful. The smile faded. "They've come to watch you die, I suppose."

"I suppose," said Harry calmly. He drew his own wand. "Let's have a go, shall we? No point in dragging this out."

"Potter, Potter, Potter," Voldemort tsk'd. "You've brought your friends all this way, then, and you don't want to entertain them? You know, with a little song and dance…" His face leered obscenely, and he raised his wand, but Harry, raising his own wand, spoke quietly the words he'd been planning on for years.

"Expelliarmus."

Wormtail squeaked and backed away, closer to the Veil. Nagini hissed and rose to attack, but Snape, his face grim, pulled his own wand and herded the large reptile away.

Voldemort's face at first registered fear when his and Harry's wands united in the same way that they had years before. Then he began to laugh, a rich, deep laugh that reverberated around the cavernous chamber. It was a chilling sound, and Harry doubted that he was honestly amused.

"Oh, Potter, come now. You are a one-trick pony, boy. Hardly worthy of…oh…"

Harry had grown much more powerful, and indeed, used his full strength to force the one large golden bead of light back towards Voldemort's wand. Within seconds, unlike their previous engagement, shadowy figures began to spew from the end of Voldemort's wandtip. Victims of the Dark Lord. Harry did not want to look too closely at them, for he knew that they would distract him. He knew that he would see the shades of Squadron Ninety-Nine…and Ginny. Looking intently into Voldemort's snakelike eyes, Harry could see the beginnings of real fear. He smirked.

"Help me," Harry muttered to the numerous shades circling them. That weird cage of golden light had not appeared this time, but he didn't care. He just needed to get Voldemort distracted… "Help me! Get him! Now's your chance!" He began to manoeuvre slightly, so that Voldemort backed up, edging closer and closer to the Veil, just as Harry had planned. "Push him back! That's it! Push him!" He barely watched as the shadowy figures crowded Voldemort backwards.

Around them, the room was going crazy. Wormtail, cowering under the wandtips of Dumbledore and Nigel-Nickerson, huddled against the old stone of the Veiled archway. In another corner, Snape and Nagini were having a lively battle. The lithe serpent coiled and lunged, twisted and dove, but Snape kept after her, his aim deadly and accurate, ducking his slim form here and there with a surprising agility. Small burn holes pierced the snake's tough green hide all along the length of her body, and her hissing was deafening. Harry could dimly hear the others yelling encouragement.

Meanwhile, Harry had nearly succeeded in his goal -- Voldemort's back was nearly up against the Veil, and his serpent-like face showed real fear now.

Almost. Almost there, thought Harry with grim satisfaction -- then he looked at that ancient stone portal, and saw something that made his concentration falter.

Ginny.

Oh, Ginny…On the other side of the Veil. She was smiling at him, and holding her hand out…he could hear a beautiful siren song…was that her, singing to him? Calling to him? She was so close…if he reached out a hand, he knew that he could touch her…hold her again, be with her forever…without thinking, he reached for her…

"Harry! Harry, look out!"

Hermione's screech seemed to break the spell that he was ensorcelled by, and with horror, he saw that the connection between his and Voldemort's wand had broken. With a leering grin, Voldemort raised his own wand. Damn! Potter thought. Stupid, stupid, stupid… He raised his wand again, but it was not fast enough. Not fast enough…

"Say goodbye, Potter. Avada --"

"NO!"

Harry barely heard Wormtail's anguished scream; barely saw the silver hand reach up and snap Voldemort's wand into pieces; out of the corner of his eye, he saw Snape deliver a final shot to Nagini, but not before she sank her fangs into his bad leg. She let loose a strange screech before shrinking in on herself, as though on fire from the inside. Within a second, she lay on the ground, nothing but ashes. He saw Snape writhe, and drop like a stone to the ground. Dead? He could not be sure. No time to check --

His gaze swung back to Voldemort, who seemed to be tottering off-balance -- Harry's eyes travelled downwards to see Wormtail pushing Voldemort backwards, his silver hand wrapped around Voldemort's scrawny white neck -- after what seemed to take forever, the two of them fell, slowly, through the veil.

Voldemort was gone.

"Professor Snape!" Hermione's scream was startling in the sudden silence of the chamber, and jerked Harry's attention back to the present. He saw her run over to the fallen man, followed by Albus.

"Is he all right?"

"I don't know," sobbed Hermione. "I don't know…"

"Allow me, Hermione," said Dumbledore. He seemed to be in as much of a daze as Harry. He leaned down over Snape, and placed his hand on the pale brow. As everyone stared, spellbound, Dumbledore began to chant a weird-sounding incantation.

The room was full now; full of black-clad armed troops, full of Harry's friends, and full of whispers from the Veil. It was a surreal scene, and after what seemed to take forever, Snape gasped. He greedily sucked air, as though he'd been drowning.

"Severus," murmured Dumbledore, his hand brushing Snape's dark hair soothingly. "It's all right, Severus. It's all right. You'll be fine."

"Voldemort," wheezed Snape. His voice was alarmingly weak.

"Gone." Dumbledore smiled. "Along with Peter Pettigrew. They have gone through the Veil."

Relieved, Snape's eyes found Harry's, and he smiled slightly. Then he lay his head back, exhausted. "Good job, Potter. Good job."

Harry smiled back. "Thank you, Prof -- I mean, Severus." He took a deep breath and looked back at the Veil; he smiled even more widely at what he saw there. Then he took a deep breath, and began to walk slowly towards it.

"Harry!" Hermione's voice was sharp. "What do you think you're doing?"

He stopped, and looked back at her. "I'm…" He paused, and smiled again -- a beautiful, serene smile. "I'm going home. To my family, and to Ginny. They're all in there. Waiting for me."

He heard Hagrid's loud sob, and took another look around. To the calm but sad acceptance on Dumbledore's and Snape's faces, the sad smile on Luna's, the thunderstruck expression on Neville's. Lupin, patting Hagrid's elbow consolingly, gave Harry a sad, sweet smile. Hagrid's sobs were escalating. Harry looked at Ron, and at Hermione, who, while sombre, gave him warm smiles.

"See you someday, mate," Ron said, his mouth trembling.

"Bye, Harry. I hope you find happiness, and…and…" Hermione's eyes were sparkling with unshed tears, and Ron put his arms around her to comfort her. She buried her face against his chest, sobbing.

"Bye, Harry. I'll see you again someday, I expect," said Luna. "You've been a very nice friend, and I'll miss you."

He found that he couldn't speak. He managed a small wave, and smiled at them again. His vision was beginning to blur with tears, but they were happy tears, and he hoped that his friends understood. He turned back to the Veil, where he could see his mother and father, and Sirius, and Ginny, and countless others, smiling and waving at him. It was like the Mirror of Erised, only a thousand times better. Harry took a deep breath, and a step forward --

-- and then he was gone, through the Veil.


	10. After The Rain

Chapter Ten: After The Rain 

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"How's your leg?"

Snape looked up from his desk, his bad leg stretched out to the side. "Rather useless, thank you. How's yours?"

The rebounded Avada Kedavera curse, along with the venom from that blasted snake's bite, had left his leg numb and stiff. There was no telling whether or not he'd ever be able to use it again, but at least it didn't hurt, and he was able to make his way around quite nicely, albeit with a pronounced limp. Severus had to admit, however, that the limp, along with a few more streaks of silver dramatically highlighting his long, black hair, made him look rather dashing. All he needed, he thought, was a black eye patch, and he'd cut quite a swath as a wounded, brave war hero turned pirate. Arrrrr, matey, he thought, grinning. Now all he needed was to kidnap himself a comely wench (which, as luck would have it, he happened to have sitting right on his desk at the moment), and he could cast quite a convincing portrayal of a dashing rogue. Yo ho ho and a bottle of elf-made wine…

His recent accomplishments, and his appointment as Headmaster to Hogwart's were causing him to receive quite a bit of extra attention these days. With the full front-page coverage that he and the others were receiving in the Daily Prophet lately, he was sure that he had at least as many female admirers as that moron Gilderoy Lockhart had once had. Snape snorted. At least he deserved his admirers for his own feats, unlike Old Smiley (as McGonagle had used to refer to the feather-brained moron.)

But, looking up at Lucie, who was looking right back at him with a mischievous, knowing expression on her face, Severus felt that there was only one female admirer that he wanted, and she was right in front of him. The thought gave him enormous satisfaction. Arrrrr…

Lucie chuckled, and she leaned her hip on the corner of the desk. "My legs are fine, thanks. Smart alec."

"Hmmm." He looked back down at the mountain of papers in front of him, then took his silver-rimmed glasses off, carefully folded them, and set them on top of the paper pile. He then stretched, and, with a huge yawn, leaned back in his comfortable dragon hide chair. The late morning sun shone through the large windows in the Headmaster's Office, highlighting his hair and bringing out the coppery highlights in his dark eyes. Snape folded his hands across his stomach and simply gazed at Lucie, his facial expression lazy and content. "To what do I owe the honour of this visit, comely wench?"

"Well, 'Headmaster'," she said, giving him a good swat in the head for the 'wench' comment, "Simon and I have pretty much got things cleaned up here. We'll be heading back on Monday."

"So soon?" Snape leaned forward, concerned. He didn't like that at all. "Why so soon?" He watched her intently. Those golden eyes of hers glowed strangely in the direct sunlight. As they always had, he thought, remembering the magical, sunny days of their youth. Before the clouds had set in.

"Simon's got a job to do. Plus he's bringing Draco Malfoy with him -- Draco's been admitted to the NAMLE Training Academy. And we've had his parents transferred to a hospital nearby the facility. His mum's regaining consciousness, and his dad doesn't look too bad, either. It'll take a long time, though, if either one of them is to recover." She looked back at Snape, her light brown curls swinging. He had to admit that she looked decidedly un-cop-like today, with her baggy sweatsuit and sneakers, her hair down and not a trace of makeup on her face. She looked unusually relaxed, as well.

"And you'll be returning to your job? Or are you -- forgive me -- still on suspension?"

"Nah," she said. "I'm going back to sell my house to Gordie. I quit my job yesterday. Life is too short, you know. As a friend says, 'Life is too short for just one hair colour'."

Snape stared at her, that odd tingling starting in his extremities again. He could have sworn he felt it even in his bad leg. "Right," he said, evenly.

"Yup." She grinned cheerfully, and unsuccessfully hid a yawn behind her hand. "Time for a change. Even though I love it in Canada -- you should really visit it someday. But I thought I'd come back, see if I can't find a job here, or even open up shop as a private 'dick', as Draco calls it. Who knows?"

Severus gulped. "You…ah…could become a teacher. The Defence Against The Dark Arts post is open… We're planning to re-open Hogwart's after Christmas…"

"Oh, I don't know," she said, leaning forward and playfully tugging a lock of his hair out of the tidy ponytail he wore. He sighed in exasperation and swatted her hand away, but then changed his mind and caught her hand instead, squeezing it gently. "Are there any rules against getting real snuggly with the Headmaster here?"

"Well," he said, starting to grin, "Yes, actually. Flitwick, Hagrid, Lupin and Slughorn are forbidden to even try. They're not my type. Especially Hagrid. Far too hairy, you know…"

Laughing, Lucie swooped down to kiss him -- and stopped as Minerva McGonagle walked in.

"Excuse me," McGonagle said, hiding a smile. "I just wanted to let you know -- Molly Weasley has been released from the hospital. She's expected to recover fully." McGonagle had chosen to stay on Hogwart's as a teacher only; nearing eighty-five, she felt that she had earned the right to take it a bit easier now, and chose to teach transfiguration.

Snape had appointed Rubeus Hagrid to the post of Head of Gryffindor, with the admonition that the introduction of any non-human creatures into residence was to supervised by Snape himself. Being Headmaster was going to have enough headaches -- he didn't want to have to deal with parents angry that their children had been mauled by dragons or hippogriffs or those damned blast-ended skrewts in their own dormitories. A thought occurred to Snape, and he scribbled it on a piece of parchment: Talk to Hagrid re: Fluffy, asap. He then turned his attention back to the two women in his office.

"Oh, wonderful!", Lucie cried. "Oh, I'm so happy for Arthur…he's suffered so much…" They fell silent, thinking of Charlie, of Percy, and of Ginny. Post-humour Orders of Merlin could not replace Arthur's beloved children.

"Yes. Arthur has sent a note requesting our presence at the Burrow tomorrow night. It's a celebration, of sorts. A celebration of life, and a celebration of lives lost." Minerva compressed her lips, unable to continue.

"Yes, Minerva. I will attend," said Severus. "Lucie?"

"Of course," she said, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

"I shall send word, then," said McGonagle, giving them a small smile and leaving the room.

"What about Potter's Memorial Celebration on Saturday?" Severus asked, looking at Lucie.

"Oh, I'll be there. Simon and I are speaking at it." Quiet now, she squeezed Snape's hand. He squeezed back, briefly, and then simply held her hand for a few moments. Lucie smiled at him, and leaned back down again to kiss him. Just then, Lupin walked in. With a resigned sigh, Lucie pulled away again.

"Hi Severus, Lucie. Oh…uh, am I interrupting anything?" He blushed slightly.

"No, no. God, no! Sev, I've got to get back to work, there's still debriefing and all that fun stuff. It's too damned busy in here for us to make out, so I may as well make myself useful…" Lucie jumped up and headed for the door, leaving Snape blushing and Lupin chuckling. "Oh, yeah," she said, swinging back around. "Final casualty count: fifty-eight of our troops dead, another six hundred and twelve wounded. Not bad, considering, but I'm going to be busy the next few days. I've got a lot of thank-you letters and letters of condolence to write. Simon and I will be paying visits to the families of the bereaved. I'm not looking forward to that, I'll tell you. It leaves you just gutted. But I'll see you at Arthur's tomorrow night."

"Fine," said Severus, bemused. "Let me know about those visits -- if I can get away, I'll make them with you."

"Thank you, Severus," Lucie said, softly.

"No problem," he said, gazing at her for a long moment. She smiled at him, and turned to go.

"Oh, and one more thing," Lucie called, turning back, as Lupin opened his mouth to speak. "Sorry, Remus, didn't mean to be rude. But it's official…Albus has consented to remain in office for the rest of this year, and until an election is called next summer. Arthur's staying on as Deputy."

"Albus had better get used to that office," said Lupin, smiling. "He'll win by a landslide."

"He said he's going to retire. He wants Arthur to win. I do, too." Lucie's amber eyes sparkled with amusement. "Albus thinks he'd like to teach here, if you're hiring. If not, maybe Gramps will hire him." She was referring, Snape knew, to Dumbledore's brother, Aberforth, who was the owner of the Hog's Head Tavern. "Personally, I think Albus would make a fabulous barkeep"  
Snape had already bent over his pile of papers again, his reading glasses once more perched on his nose. "Tell him to complete an application, and I need at least four references, none of whom are kin." He looked up at Lucie and winked. "That includes you."

"I'll let him know." She grinned hugely at him, and turned and left. Snape watched her go. Gone was the tired, somewhat burnt-out woman of several days ago, and in her place was that vibrant, funny girl that he had known. That he had loved. That he -- which he was discovering, to his great joy-- still loved. Wholeheartedly.

He smiled. The bad years were over, and done with. It was time to live again. The thought made him chuckle. An old song came to mind, for some reason, and he began to tap his quill in rhythm to it.

Come on, baby, let the good times roll!

xxx

Late Saturday night, everyone sat in Snape's new office, nursing a drink of some sort.

The Potter Memorial Service had been wrenching; but, it had also been liberating. And besides, they knew that Harry had chosen his fate. They all hoped that he was content with it.

Molly Weasley, much thinner and greyer, sat beside Arthur Weasley, holding his hand. Beside them sat Ron, Hermione, and Fred and George, all of whom were proudly displaying several Orders of Merlin on their chests. Arthur and Molly had some piled beside them, still in their boxes. Bill was back in the hospital, keeping an eye on Fleur who was suffering from a difficult pregnancy. It was wonderful, Severus thought, to see life in the midst of so much death and destruction, and he silently wished them well. Beside him, Lucie sat on a fat cushion placed on the floor, leaning back contentedly against Severus's legs, sipping from a glass of orange juice -- plain.

"Well, that's it, then," said Albus, tiredly. "It was a nice memorial service. I think Harry would have liked Viktor Krum's tribute." The famous Quidditch player had brought his entire team to the service, and, using coloured smoke trails emanating from their brooms, had written, "Farewell Harry Potter. Thank You" in huge multicoloured letters in the sky. The magical smoke would not evaporate for days. Undoubtedly, muggles would be puzzled, but they would not guess at the meaning behind the letters, most likely.  
"Yes, definitely," added Simon. "He was quite a guy. I wish I'd known him better."

"Yes, he was," said Snape. "I hope Harry's found a better life where he is. Although he really was terrible at potions." Everyone laughed, and Hermione threw a small pillow at Snape, which he deftly deflected.

"So what about that Veil, then?" Lucie asked. "I mean, won't Harry have to put up with Voldemort and Wormtail on the other side? They went there, too."

Albus hesitated; then, he said, slowly, "I do not know, Lucie. No one does. Not for sure. No one still amongst the land of the living, anyway."

Arthur spoke up. "There are legends, though. Legends that say that what lies behind the Veil is not death, not really. But more of an other dimension, in which souls dwell." He shrugged. "There are thousands of studies and theories that have been put forth. If you like, I can let you have access to them. They're at the old Ministry, and are largely intact."

"But they all boil down to one basic fact," added Albus, "And that is that no one knows for sure."

"Huh," said Lucie, thinking for a moment. Then, "How old is it?"

"Don't know."

"Who built it?"

"Don't know."

"What do you know about it, then?"

Albus smiled gently. "Not much. It appears to be a portal, between life and what we refer to as "death". Other than that," he shrugged. "I'm sorry, dear. But the only ones who know are the ones who have gone through it, and they're currently unavailable for comment."

"So there's no way to know whether or not Voldemort and Wormtail are causing trouble over there?" Lucie frowned, concerned. Albus shrugged again.

"No. Sorry."

"Damn. Wait a minute," she said, sitting up straighter. "What about the ghosts? Would any of them know?"

"They have been questioned, over the years." said Albus, "And I'm sorry to say, none of them know, because none of them have allowed their souls to depart this plane of existence. They can tell us very little about death."

"Damn. Well, I guess I'll just have to go take a jump through it myself and find out."

"You're staying right here," Snape said lazily, grabbing her ponytail and holding it tight. "I'm having a hard enough time staffing this place as it is." Earlier that day, Lucie had agreed to teach the Defence Against The Dark Arts class, much to Snape's delight. He only hoped that the old curse against the position had disappeared along with Voldemort, because he definitely wanted her around for more than a year.

He'd made two more appointments that day, one of which he was unsure of. Hermione Granger had accepted the post of Muggle Studies, a position which he was placing great importance upon. He had decided to make the course mandatory. This division between Muggles and Magical Peoples had to be broken down -- it may cause some problems, yes, but in his opinion, the "us and them" mentality had caused more problems than a reunion would. He was going to pick Lucie's brain about the way that things were done in North America, to use for guidelines.

The appointment of Luna Lovegood to History Of Magic, however, made him a bit nervous, but there had been no other applicants after Binns had finally realized that he was dead, and as such, need not continue teaching anymore. The last Severus had heard of Binns, he and the Bloody Baron had decided to tour the countryside and have some fun haunting old castles. Snape knew that he should talk them out of it -- really, it was rather unacceptable behaviour -- but, in the end, he simply didn't have the heart to spoil the old spirits' fun, so he merely wished them well and advertised for the History of Magic position. Well, Snape thought, if anything, Luna should make the course more interesting -- Snape made a mental note to check over her course material beforehand, to make sure it did not contain anything too … er … strange…

A scratching sound caught his attention, and he sighed in exasperation. "Hedwig! Stop that!"

"What's she doing?" Lupin asked, frowning at the pretty owl. After Harry's demise, Hedwig had simply shown up in Snape's office, sitting on Fawkes' old perch, with a dead frog in her beak. She had made herself right at home, and Snape had let her. He'd always thought she was a lovely owl, and very well behaved -- for the most part, anyway.

"Oh, she keeps scratching at that old Pensieve," Snape snapped, limping over to where Hedwig was labouring. "Perhaps there's a mouse hole under there, or something." He lifted the Pensieve to check, and was amazed to find an envelope underneath. With a triumphant cry, Hedwig picked up the letter in her sharp beak, and flew to the center of the office, hovering overhead. Snape limped back over.

"What is it, girl?", he asked, frowning up at her. "Do you want to be let out? Here, let me open the window --"

Hedwig swooped down and dropped the letter neatly in Ron's lap, then flew over and landed beside Snape, who promptly offered her some owl treats. Across the room, Ron picked up the envelope, his face pale.

"It's from Harry!" Every head in the room swivelled towards him.

"He must have written it before the battle," whispered Hermione. "What does it say?"

"It's addressed to "My Friends", said Ron, carefully opening the envelope. He held up the small sheet of parchment, and began to read.

"To whoever is reading this:

If you're reading this, then we've obviously won the war and hopefully some of you are still alive. You all know who you are. I've designed this letter to self-destruct, if unfriendly hands touch it.  
I just want to say thank you, for making my life so good here. Don't mourn…you need to know that I wanted to go through the Veil. I hope that I did manage to -- there's nothing left for me here, now that Ginny's gone. I hope that I'll see my family, and Ginny, on the other side. I don't know…but it's worth a try.  
I love you all, and wish you the best of luck -- if we've won, then try to make a new world, a better world, than what we had. Stick together -- we're stronger together, than we are apart. And I know I'll see you all again someday. I know it. Love always,  
Harry James Potter.  
Ps -- can someone give Hedwig a good home? She likes fried bacon as a treat.  
Pps -- I leave all my possessions to Ron and Hermione, or the Weasley family, whoever is still left. Mind the Firebolt, she's listing a little to the right lately.  
Love, Harry."

Ron lowered the letter, tears pouring freely down his face, and beside him, Hermione held him close. A few sobs punctuated the silence in the room, but they were not unhappy -- it felt as though a great weight had been lifted from many hearts, and Dumbledore was the first to speak.

"I propose a toast." He held up his goblet of wine, and the others followed suit. Some were smiling, some were sobbing, but they were all united, and together. Dumbledore surveyed them, with a gentle smile, and said, simply, "To Harry -- and to the future, and to peace."

"To Harry."


End file.
